


Sonder

by orphan_account



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: 97line and maknae line are the same age, Alternate Universe - College/University, Break Up, Established Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Slow Burn, Time Skips, Unrequited Love, updates frequently
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-02-28 14:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 38,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13273053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: There's nothing quite like not knowing what the hell is going on during your first year of college.Or, in other words, the story of everything that happens to bring people together, to make them fall in love and also fall apart, and all the shenanigans that ensue in between.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so, uh, not a very bright idea to get struck with inspiration right before my second semester starts, huh?
> 
> nevertheless, i want to write this fic, so i will write it, despite the dread looming in the distance as school is supposed to start again soon.
> 
> this will be heavily influenced by my own experience as a freshman in college because honestly, a lot of weird and worth-telling things happened in my time. it's told in a non-linear fashion, basically meaning that some parts are written in the past and others in the present, with no particular order.
> 
> i hope you enjoy!

“Do you remember how we met?”

 

“Oh, Jesus Christ, you soft pile of shit. Let’s not start this now.”

 

Hansol tips the contents of the solo cup he holds into his open mouth. Seungkwan sits and stares, as if this is a regular occurrence (which, by this point in the year, it was). May meant finals, going home, finals, seeing family again, finals. Finals seemed to be the be-all and end-all around here, as was evident by the open bottles of wine strewn all over Hansol’s dorm. That’s what Seungkwan hardly understands about Hansol. Someone so chic and cool like him, getting red wine drunk on his study days (and afternoons, and evenings, and nights, while we’re at it). Even after knowing him the entire year, he still isn’t sure how he gets his upperclassmen friends to buy him all this alcohol. Seungkwan isn’t sure he’ll ever really understand. That’s what friendship with Hansol was like.

 

“I’m just thinking about it,” he repeats. He lays back down on Hansol’s bed while Hansol sits cross-legged on the floor. The ceiling tiles are stained and weathered from however ancient the dorm building is; Seungkwan hasn’t cared enough to do his research. “You used to be the coolest person I knew.”

 

“Used to be?” Hansol would sound offended if it wasn’t for the slur of his speech.

 

“Used to be. Now that I actually know you, not so much.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Surely, as a math major, Seungkwan is positive he needs to load his schedule with as many STEM courses as need be. He doesn’t expect the entire population of freshmen to be in his chemistry class, though, so he finds a seat in the back next to some unsuspecting nobody who has his eyes glued to his phone, headphones shoved deep into his ears. Usually, he’d ask if it was okay to sit here, just in case whoever it was was saving it for a friend, but it was nine in the morning and Seungkwan doesn’t care at all. He’s tired. It’s the first day. He’s more than tired.

 

The class starts. Seungkwan is surprised that his neighbor has finally managed to glance up from his phone screen.

 

“Oh,” the guy says. Seungkwan was scribbling down the last of what the professor was saying about valence electrons when he heard the small voice from the seat beside him, seemingly confused.

 

“Huh?”

 

“This isn’t my class,” he continues, calmly folding his hands over his closed spiral notebook. “Right?” Now he meets Seungkwan’s eyes as if he expects him to know the details of his schedule.

 

“Uh, this is Gen Chemistry,” Seungkwan points out, bowing his head down further in case the professor called him out for not paying attention. Unlikely, he thinks, in a crowd of about a hundred different students.

 

The guy laughs. Seungkwan puts a name to a face when he sees that, in the corner of the notebook cover, the word ‘Hansol’ is written in scraggly letters, pen just starting to fade.

 

“That explains a lot. I’m supposed to be in Calculus.”

 

“Then go to Calculus.”

 

Hansol shakes his head, leaning back in his seat, and Seungkwan wonders how hard he’s trying if he looks this cool sitting in a lecture hall full of freshman STEM majors. Perhaps he isn’t trying at all. Seungkwan also wonders how hard he himself would have to try in order to reach that level of uncaring, that level of effortlessness. Easy, breezy, beautiful, sitting there like he belongs, when he so obviously doesn’t.

 

“Nah,” Hansol mumbles. “I make it a point to learn something new each day, and maybe me being a dumbass is a sign that I’m doing something right.”

 

And Seungkwan swears the smirk on his face makes his heart skip ten million beats into next year.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Emily Dickinson. How was Seokmin, an 18-year-old with little to no experience in the department of a woman’s brain, supposed to fully grasp the implications of his first assignment as a first-year, Undecided major with a capital U? Trick question. He wasn’t supposed to understand. At least, that’s what his professor had cheerily explained this morning when he was pacing around the classroom like someone who was obviously way more well-versed in poetry than the group of groggy freshmen in front of him. Poetry was to be read once, then again, then again and again until something started to click. Seokmin doubted he’d get anywhere tonight, but visiting the library had to have its perks.

 

Sure, he’s dated girls before. Scratch that. One single girl, and he’s pretty sure holding a sweaty hand at a middle school dance did not, under any circumstances, count as dating. Emily Dickinson, however, seemed to shed some light into whatever it was that nineteenth century women faced. Seokmin’s eyes scan the page heavily, as if the effort to read words was almost as tiring as climbing the stairs to the library’s fourth floor. It’s uninhabited. Coming up here was probably the best decision he’d made since starting his first semester four days ago.

 

“Shit. Fuck. Damn. Shit.” Seokmin has a tendency of cussing. At what, he isn’t sure, but it probably had something to do with the fact that he couldn’t understand poetry even if he tried.

 

“There isn’t an official rule against language in here, but please stop cursing at Dickinson. She’s dead, for crying out loud. The least you could do is show some respect.”

 

Seokmin looks up and meets the eyes of the guy––probably an upperclassman––restocking the shelves across from his table. His glasses are almost enough to make him seem like the most pretentious asshat on campus, but his remark sends it over the top. Signed, sealed, and delivered.

 

“I can’t respect something I barely comprehend,” Seokmin spits, hastily closing the cover of the book. The guy smiles, pressing a finger to the frame of his glasses to push them further up his nose. “My professor is a bag of dicks for assigning this on the fourth day,” he goes on.

 

“Huh. Bag of dicks. That sounds like something Soonyoung would say.” He comes over to sit across from Seokmin, motions slow, as if he’s doing everything while covered in molasses. Under any other circumstances, Seokmin would make a joke about it. He doubts that’s the best way to make friends with a snarky asshole who works in the library, though.

 

“Who?”

 

“My boyfriend, sorry. I was mostly talking to myself.”

 

“Ah. Gotcha.”

 

“Sorry,” he says again, this time holding out a hand for Seokmin to shake. “Jeon Wonwoo. I’m a sophomore. I, uh, work here.”

 

“Only a sophomore?” Seokmin lets go of his hand, wiping it on his pant leg under the table where Wonwoo can’t see. “You look older. At least now you don’t seem as pretentious.”

 

“I seem pretentious?”

 

“Oh, definitely,” he says. Seokmin flashes the smile he only reserves for when he knows he’s being a wiseass. It’s large and bright and it seems to get the job done, because Wonwoo joins him, managing to flash his teeth as well. He only looks older in a cold way; the creases by his eyes tell Seokmin that he must stay up late most nights. Either that, or he was actually sixty years old, masquerading as a college student for what measly benefits it may have offered.

 

“I was about to offer you some help with that,” he says, tapping a slender finger on the cover of _Emily Dickinson: The Full Collection,_ “but I can see that I’d just be dipping my toes into uncharted, choppy, angsty freshman waters.”

 

“Hey, I never told you I was––”

 

Wonwoo laughs. “A freshman? It’s kind of obvious.”

 

“How so?”

 

“You still have life left in your eyes.”

 

Seokmin finds himself hard to contain, snorting loudly. So loudly, in fact, that Wonwoo has to shush him as a student on the floor below them grunts in disapproval. Jeesh, everyone sure is a hardass around here, Seokmin thinks. “Hey,” he begins. “If you wouldn’t mind helping me, I’d really appreciate it. You seem like you’re pretty smart, no matter how cocky and pretentious you look.”

 

“Gee, _thanks.”_

 

“Yes or no, Mr. Jeon Wonwoo?”

 

“Well,” Wonwoo answers, thinking. Even the way he talks sounds meditative; Seokmin doesn’t know how anyone could truly think that hard and slow about everything. It would probably drive him up a wall if he had to try it out for himself. “If you don’t mind Soonyoung.”

 

“Your boyfriend? Why would I mind him?”

 

“He’s, well, he’s a lot.” Seokmin raises an eyebrow, waiting for some sort of elaboration. People back in high school used to say that about him. Honestly, he sees where it might have been reasonable to assume so. Seokmin is friendly and loud and yeah, he was a lot. For Wonwoo to imply that someone he knows is also a lot? Well, it makes him feel not as alone. The idea of third-wheeling a sophomore and his boyfriend didn’t seem so bad after all.

 

“A lot?”

 

“Loud,” Wonwoo says. “Obnoxious. No filter. Hyperactive and intense at any hour of the day. And that’s just when he’s sober.”

 

Seokmin cracks another smile. “He sounds like my cup of tea.”


	2. Chapter 2

It was snowing, because of course it was. What better way to make navigating around campus harder than by dumping five inches of snow everywhere? Seungkwan has to admit, he’s terrified of ice. Winter in general, really. Slipping, falling, and public embarrassment are numbers one, two, and three on his list of things to be afraid of from the months of November through February, when things started to thaw out again. He takes tiny steps on his way to the library, as if going slower will somehow alleviate those fears.

 

A shout comes from behind him. “To your left!”

 

There’s the whirring sound of wheels on slippery pavement, and then it’s gone, zipping off in front of him. Seungkwan has to stare for a moment before he realizes what has just happened. Yes, indeed, to his left hadn’t been the usual bike rider or skateboarder. Some dude on a hot pink Razor scooter was flying down the sidewalk in the same direction he was walking.

 

“What? How? Why?”

 

The questions leave his mouth right as the scooter decides to royally fuck up its rider’s day. In a matter of seconds, the dude is on the ground as his ride spins out and catches somewhere in the ice, throwing him into the snowy grass. Seungkwan tries as hard as he can to keep from letting out the loudest laugh he can muster. Abandoning his small steps, he runs over to the person clutching their elbow, writing around in the snow, sitting up in defeat.

 

“Hey, are you alright?”

 

“Of course.” His voice is muffled from beneath his scarf. It’s yellow and plaid and quite possibly the ugliest thing Seungkwan has ever seen anyone wear, but it does look warm, in its defense.

 

“Oh. Calculus boy.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

It’s him alright. Seungkwan extends an arm, expecting Hansol to take it and pull himself up, but he does so himself, wincing as his elbow unbends. The aura he’d had when Seungkwan had first met him is gone now, obviously diminished by the crash. It’s been nearly four months, he thinks to himself, since he’d sat through an entire chemistry lecture with someone not even meant to be there. And every day since then, Seungkwan has found it difficult to keep the idea of him off his mind. He’s elusive. He’s mysterious. He’s brushing the snow off his coat so daintily that Seungkwan wonders what exactly Hansol _ is. _

 

“You sat next to me on the first day of classes,” Seungkwan points out. “You were supposed to be in Calculus, but you weren’t.”

 

“Oh,” Hansol says. Realization dawns on him, and his eyebrows unfurrow. “Right! You never told me your name.”

 

“Seungkwan.”

 

“Nice. Headed to the library?”

 

“Yes,” he says. “You?”

 

Hansol nods. “Of course. It’s finals week soon. Everyone’s in there, wasting time and drinking their expensive Starbucks drinks. What better time to live than now, eh?”

 

Sighing, Seungkwan resumes his walk. His brain is so thoroughly muddled and he doesn’t have the time nor the energy to sort through it with Hansol. “Let’s go,” he beckons without thinking, but Hansol is already beside him, lugging along the busted scooter, as its wheels obviously don’t work anymore. He’s getting flashbacks to his childhood spent playing in the streets by himself, two older sisters too self-absorbed to occupy his time. Seungkwan thinks about his severe lack of friendship thus far, but Hansol can’t seem to read his mind, so he stays happy for the time being.

 

One friend was all he needed.

 

 

* * *

 

Wonwoo remembers the moment he fell in love very precisely. Almost as precise, in fact, as the aim that had been needed to nail him right smack-dab in the middle of his face with the coldest, hardest snowball he’d ever felt in his entire nineteen years of existence.

 

He remembers because it had been the first snowfall of the year. One year ago, as a freshman, he hadn’t expected to get out much, but his roommate had inevitably dragged him outside at midnight to partake in the campus-wide tradition. He recalls everything, down to the feeling of sloshing around in the snow wearing nothing but pajama pants, a ratty t-shirt, and his slippers. Sure, it was a year ago, but he knows the feeling of almost having his nose broken won’t leave him anytime soon.

 

“I think you need to clean this place up,” Soonyoung says. He snaps out of the daydream almost as soon as it had started.

 

“You’re telling  _ me _ to clean up?”

 

Soonyoung throws a menacing glare his way. “Yeah, ha ha, I get it, my room’s a hazardous wasteland. Take that up with Jun, not me. It’s been his turn to take out the trash for, like, the past month.”

 

“That’s disgusting.”

 

“I know!”

 

Wonwoo’s friends had been so wary of Soonyoung in the beginning. Now, he can safely say he hardly talks to any of them anymore. That’s how friendships work. You grow apart. It hadn’t been due to his relationship––at least, that’s what he told himself––but Wonwoo knew that part of growing up meant that he’d leave parts of him behind. Simple as that. When he looks at Soonyoung, he sees those parts and more.

 

He had been the one to throw that snowball, and when Wonwoo was fully able to open his eyes after all of the supposed blunt force trauma, Soonyoung had been right there in front of him, wiping his face for him, pulling the broken pieces of his glasses off so he wouldn’t cut himself. He thinks that must’ve been the tamest he’d ever seen him. 

 

“Earth to Wonwoo. You’re spacing out again.”

 

“Come here.”

 

Wonwoo sits on the edge of his bed and Soonyoung pushes the dorm room door shut. As Wonwoo pulls him closer, he’s reminded of the first time they did this. First times were always difficult. First times with Soonyoung were considerably more difficult, because it was intimidating to be looking at someone so perfect, someone who seemed to love him just as much as he put out. He guides Soonyoung’s face to his, pressing his lips first against his cheek and then to his mouth, pecking softly and slowly.

 

That’s how Wonwoo is. Slow and steady. He wonders if Soonyoung ever gets tired of waiting for him.

 

 

* * *

 

There are three words that Seokmin values more than he values his own life. Three words that make him crumble faster than anything, eager to do anything to reach them. People dream their whole lives of hearing them, and yet, Seokmin happens to stumble upon them out of nowhere, one unsuspecting night in the library.

 

The sign above the machine spelled them out, plain and simple. Free hot chocolate.

 

Luckily, he always carries his thermos with him, because after trekking all the way from his dorm in the bone-chilling wind, he figures he needs to treat himself. He quickly fills his cup to the brim before heading up to the fourth floor, right on time for Wonwoo to emerge from the shelves like some weird library ghost.

 

It had been about a week and a half since their first encounter. The weather had grown significantly worse, as had Seokmin’s time management skills and his overall mood. Whereas everyone seemed to be having a dandy time, his literature class was holding him back. He throws his bag onto the floor beside the table he sits at.

 

Wonwoo looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here, and Seokmin figures he regrets the decision to help him, but just then, the storm clouds part and the Sun itself decides to make an appearance. Seokmin can only assume it’s Wonwoo’s boyfriend that comes barrelling down the rows of shelves, throwing all rules of silence to the wind. He’s holding a joke book that’s written in Russian, because  _ of course _ he is. 

 

“Decode this for me?” he asks Wonwoo, and Seokmin stares dumbly while Wonwoo takes the book in his hands, scans the page, grins, and whispers something Seokmin can’t decipher into his ear.

 

“Seokmin,” Wonwoo says, turning his attention back to him. “This is Soonyoung. I hope you don’t mind if he sits in on this study session, but he was complaining about being bored, so I felt obligated to drag him along.”

 

They both sit down across from Seokmin. He feels like he’s being questioned. FBI type shit, you know? Soonyoung just looks at him, tilting his head like a confused puppy.

 

“I like him,” he says suddenly, turning to face Wonwoo.

 

At this point, Seokmin is even more confused, which was saying a lot. “Excuse me?” Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at the same time, continuing Seokmin’s question.

 

Now, Soonyoung feels the need to explain himself. When he smiles, his eyes disappear, and Seokmin finds himself biting hard on his bottom lip. “You see,” he goes on, “I can usually get a feeling for people. My feeling about you is extraordinarily good. Even Wonwoo wasn’t  _ this  _ good, and he’s the one I sleep with.”

 

“Jesus Christ,” mutters Wonwoo, kicking sideways at Soonyoung’s crossed legs under the table. He meets Seokmin’s eyes now, and the silent urging for him to play along is a message easily conveyed in whatever awkward silence now exists at the table.

 

“ _ Anyway,  _ let’s get to Dickinson.”

 

Seokmin lifts his cup to sip his hot chocolate, but it burns his tongue. He bites it, just like he had been doing the entire time Soonyoung had stared.


	3. Chapter 3

The first time Soonyoung kisses Wonwoo, he isn’t totally aware of what’s happening, just that he’s taken the last sip of his Coke and Fireball and that he needs a refill before the party seriously takes off. The second time, though, is savored almost as much as the drink in his cup, and Soonyoung ends up spilling half of it on the ground when Wonwoo grabs him, so he can hardly say it matters.

 

Jun is notorious for finding the best off-campus parties, and as freshmen, they’re always looking for the best opportunities to get as illegally wasted as possible without having to explain anything to paramedics. Soonyoung knew from the start that Jun would make a terrible roommate for the following year, but as a freshman, your judgement is blurred and that obviously leads to bad sophomore decisions.

 

“That dude over there has been checking you out all night,” Jun says to him, when Soonyoung has just barely finished a cup full of something the junior tending the bar had called ‘liquid luck.’ Being him, Soonyoung trusts the description.

 

“Oh, really? Why me?”

 

“Well, if  _ I’m _ the one answering, I’d say it’s because you’re really attractive when you push your bangs off your forehead.” Jun nudges him gently. “But you should go ask him, since I can’t speak for the general public.”

 

Soonyoung admires Jun a great deal. When he’s sober, he’s drunk on life, and when he’s drunk, he’s spewing smart words that make Einstein's theories sound like 7th grade science projects. The guy in question is sitting between two others on the couch, and they definitely make him look like a tall, brooding, twig; Soonyoung doesn’t have a type, but the strong and silent kind of guys always peak his interest. He makes eye contact and smiles, which makes him smile back, and all of a sudden, Soonyoung has squeezed his way onto the couch beside him.

 

“Hi,” he says.

 

“You almost broke my nose, you know.”

 

“Oh my God, it’s  _ you!” _

 

He remembers uttering all of the apologetic words he knew when he first looked into those eyes. Man, those eyes. Snowball guy now has a way of staring him down that feels new and inquisitive and it’s making Soonyoung wish he was more drunk. The other guys on the couch leave them be, probably going to join the next round of beer pong. Jun would probably be heading it off.

 

“Me?” he asks, scooting an inch or two away.

 

“You,” Soonyoung grins. “I know you.”

 

“I have a name, you know.”

 

“And I bet it’s beautiful.”

 

At this, he blushes, barely visible in the dim frat house lighting, and Soonyoung takes pride in himself for a moment. He’s best at flirting when he’s tipsy. Liquid luck, indeed. He makes a mental note to thank whoever it was that was handing out drinks, not that he’d remember it in the morning.

 

“Wonwoo,” the guy says.

 

“Wonwoo,” repeats Soonyoung.

 

There on the couch is where Soonyoung spills what’s left of some random cup on the table when Wonwoo grabs his shirt and kisses the life out of him. There on the couch is where he realizes Wonwoo tastes like vanilla and something familiar, something that jogs his memory and makes him think he’s still a kid, rollerblading through the streets of his neighborhood in the summers, hearing his parents telling him to have as much fun as he wanted, but to always stay safe.

 

That’s it. Wonwoo is safe, and Soonyoung hardly minds when he’s drunk.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Seungkwan, why is this so hard for you?”

 

Hansol asks that question after every practice problem he gives, and Seungkwan is running out of creative answers. Math is not his strong suit, but Hansol may as well be Stephen Hawking. He blasts through problem after problem, equation after equation, while Seungkwan struggles with figuring out how to start.

 

“I have no excuses,” he says, hanging his head pathetically, praying to something out there that Hansol takes pity on him and lets him have a break.

 

“I have an idea.”

 

“An idea?”

 

They’re sitting on the carpeted ground of the library’s ninth floor. No one comes up here as far as Seungkwan is concerned; the only reasoning would be to look through the university’s archives, and that sounds like the least exciting thing in the world (aside from calculus work). It’s April and it’s also humid as actual Hell in the dorms, which is why Hansol suggested they do homework up here in the air conditioned library.

 

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands,” Hansol requests of him, and Seungkwan obliges.

 

About a minute passes and Seungkwan still has his eyes shut. He wants to open one to peek, but he’s also scared of Hansol getting upset, so he huffs at whatever is taking so long. Any second now, he expects Hansol to put something in his hands, but nothing comes.

 

“What am I waiting for exactly?” he asks, growing impatient.

 

“I’m going to be honest,” Hansol answers softly. Seungkwan has never heard him sound this gentle. “I was going to kiss you, but then I got scared, so I’ve just been staring at you and trying to work up the courage, but I don’t think it’s coming, so you can open your eyes.”

 

He does. Hansol’s cheeks are red and Seungkwan feels his own face growing hot as well. All he can do is blink and then pretend to be alright with what he’s just been told, but some sort of ache moves to the pit of his stomach and as they continue with homework, Seungkwan doesn’t know if he should ever ask anymore questions, or if he should just continue following Hansol blindly into the dark.

 

The dark is so much better than feeling that exposed, anyway.

 

Seungkwan doesn’t need this. He wishes Hansol had just let him leave his eyes open.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Seokmin thinks it’s way too nice outside for it to actually be October. For once, he can step out of the confines of his dorm wearing his usual jeans and faded crew neck sweatshirt and not feel like he needs a winter coat to layer over it. The leaves have finally decided to start changing colors, which makes the entire campus look orange and gold and, quite frankly, he loves it. Autumn is the best time of year.

 

“Hey, watch out!”

 

At exactly the wrong time, he turns his head and gets smacked in the forehead with what appears to be a frisbee. Seokmin stumbles a little and then lets out an unidentifiable string of curse words as the perpetrator runs up to him. Of course. It’s none other than the Sun. Soonyoung is smiling, as always, but at least he looks the slightest bit sorry for giving Seokmin what has the potential to be a minor concussion.

 

“Sorry about that,” Soonyoung apologizes, grabbing the frisbee off the ground. “You good?”

 

“I’m starting to think you have some sort of kink for hitting people in the face with various airborne objects. Correct me if I’m wrong.”

 

At this, Soonyoung giggles, and Seokmin suddenly forgets about the throbbing pain right in the middle of his head. He tosses the frisbee to some guy standing a little ways away from the dorm’s front door; Seokmin can’t tell if he’s actually freakishly tall or if the concussion has already started making him hallucinate.

 

“Mingyu,” Soonyoung shouts, “say you’re sorry for nailing my dear friend Seokmin.”

 

“I’m not sorry,” he responds menacingly, “because  _ you’re _ the one who threw it! If you’d learn how to actually be good at this game, we wouldn’t have problems like this!”

 

“Seokmin,” Soonyoung ignores Mingyu, who goes on rambling about how badly he wishes he had a friend that was better at throwing frisbees. “Wanna play with us? Mingyu’s not usually this uptight, I promise. He’s actually a freshman, too, in case you felt intimidated by me.”

 

Seokmin laughs. “First of all, you don’t intimidate me.” That’s most certainly a lie. Soonyoung is the most intimidating person he knows.

 

“Is that so?”

 

That smirk is doing it for him, Seokmin thinks, eyes lingering a little too long on the curve of Soonyoung’s lips. He wonders how long God spent carving out those cheeks of his, because he’d be damned if it didn’t take him at least a day to make him look like the most dangerous man on Earth. 

 

“It’s totally so,” he asserts, snapping out of it, whatever  _ it  _ may be. “You’re just Wonwoo’s dork of a boyfriend. Nothing scary about that.” Seokmin is weak and he hopes it isn’t obvious. Soonyoung’s smile fades if only for a second, but in the time it takes Seokmin to notice, he’s already returned to normal.

 

“Come on,” Soonyoung says, wrapping his fingers around Seokmin’s wrist and he starts walking over to where Mingyu waits expectantly in the middle of the quad. He swears he feels his soul exit his body, along with all of his dignity and his sense of knowing what was right and what was absolutely, positively, wrong in every single way, shape, and form.

 

So, Seokmin goes. Soonyoung has that effect on people, it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (i hope this style is somewhat easy to follow. let me know what you think!)


	4. Chapter 4

Having basically sprinted down the stairs and then through the hallways to Hansol’s dorm, Seungkwan is quite out of breath. Just two minutes prior, he’d gotten a text that implied some sense of urgency, and Seungkwan had followed suit. The door is propped open and Hansol mills around inside, goofy smile on his face as Seungkwan comes in.

 

“What’s up?” he nearly chokes out, running a hand through his hair.

 

“The RA just busted my ass for, like, no reason.”

 

“That’s it? That’s the reason I almost had an asthma attack after galloping down here?”

 

“Yeah,” Hansol says. “I figured you might want to comfort me in my time of embarrassment and weakness.”

 

“You’re quite a piece of work, Hansol, you know that?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Seungkwan knows that Hansol trusts him. They’re two of a kind, one single entity most times, and sometimes he can hear his voice in his head as if they’re connected by two tin cans and a string, always present at any given time of day. It’s nice to be forming such a friendship. Seungkwan never expected it, which made it all the more fitting that Hansol settles right into his life like he’d been waiting eighteen years just to meet him. Him, of all people. It’s nearly the end of the first semester and Seungkwan finally feels secure.

 

“So, what did the RA want?” Seungkwan asks, throwing himself down on the rickety desk chair beside Hansol’s bed. “Did you break any rules?”

 

“Technically, yes.” Hansol paces over to the garbage can in the corner, bends down, and fishes out what looks like a jar. Except, it’s smoking. Seungkwan now sees that it’s a candle, apparently freshly burned. He mentally facepalms.

 

“You dummy,” Seungkwan laughs. “You can’t burn candles in here.”

 

“Yeah, I know that  _ now,  _ but the best part is that the RA didn’t even think it was a candle. He comes pounding on my door and I open it, and get this, he accuses me of smoking weed.”

 

“Well, is it a weed-scented candle?”

 

“I really don’t think those exist.”

 

At this point, they’re both laughing like idiots, loud enough to provoke a knock at the door. Hansol is lucky he lives in a single without a roommate, but it also meant that the RA felt obligated to check in every minute, it seemed. Hansol swings the door open.

 

“Joshua,” he greets him. Seungkwan peeks over. “I swear I’m not burning anymore candles, dude.”

 

“I trust you,” the RA says. Seungkwan likes how calm he sounds. His own RA up on the fifth floor is a bit of a hardass, always yelling at him to turn his music down even when it’s barely audible. This guy Joshua, on the contrary, reminds him a lot of his mother, voice gentle and soothing to hear. He figures if he were ever one to yell, it wouldn’t be all that scary.

 

“Who’s your friend?” he asks. Seungkwan takes that as his cue to introduce himself. He spins back and forth in the rolling chair and hopes Hansol doesn’t feel sheepish because of him.

 

“Boo Seungkwan,” he says. “Freshman, fifth floor resident, Hansol’s only friend, and a struggling math major.”

 

Joshua chuckles, leaning against the door frame. “Nice to meet you. I’m glad Hansol finally has someone around. Every time I check on him, he’s always alone, and this is definitely a pleasant surprise.”

 

Hansol rolls his eyes and Seungkwan feels it from all the way across the room. “Joshua, I’m not a  _ kid. _ ”

 

“I know, I just like to make sure my residents are okay! I heard an unfamiliar voice and I had to come see what the ruckus was about.”

 

“It’s just Seungkwan,” Hansol hums, and Seungkwan thinks about what that’s supposed to mean. He suddenly becomes very interested in looking at his feet. He hopes Hansol likes having him around. He hopes befriending him wasn’t a mistake. Above all, he hopes he can hide the feelings that have gradually bubbled to the surface of who he is, pulling at his heartstrings relentlessly, making him wish he could come to terms with how badly he wants to be more than just himself. He wants to be more. He wants to be everything.

 

Most importantly, he’s finding out that wanting to be Hansol’s is something he should just give up before he digs himself a deeper, more unsightly hole.  
  


* * *

 

 

“Soonyoung, I’m concerned for your wellbeing.”

 

Midterms are finally approaching; Seokmin is mainly excited about getting his tests out of the way so he can enjoy fall break to its fullest, but Soonyoung has barely started studying, which was a problem, as his first exam is tomorrow morning starting promptly at 10. Wonwoo had long since gone to bed, leaving the two of them alone in Soonyoung’s dorm. His roommate, Jun, is nowhere to be found. Apparently, that was usual for him.

 

“Don’t be,” Soonyoung mutters, tapping his pencil’s eraser on the Physics book open on his lap. They sit side-by-side, leaning up against the bed frame. Seokmin wonders why anyone would willingly take Physics, but Soonyoung is like him: Undecided with a capital U. It’s nice to have him around to be relatable. “I’ve survived one year so far, and trust me, I can survive the next three.”

 

“If you insist.” 

 

Seokmin has given up trying to help him. It’s currently two in the morning, meaning that Soonyoung would be suffering from severe sleep deprivation if he didn’t drop the books soon. The Keurig sits at the ready on a table in the corner; any minute now, he expects Soonyoung to throw himself at it, begging for another buzz that the previous five cups of coffee had failed to provide him.

 

They’re barely touching, but Seokmin feels the tension regardless. Hanging out without Wonwoo seems like it should be out-of-bounds for him, and yet, he enjoys their alone time way more than he enjoys their study sessions as a trio. Selfishly, he wishes Soonyoung would feel the same. Obviously, he doesn’t. Wonwoo is, as is evident, the love of his life.

 

And yet, Soonyoung drops his head heavily onto Seokmin’s shoulder. Instant electrocution. Spontaneous combustion. Seokmin explodes into a million pieces.

 

“I need to make more coffee,” Soonyoung whines, pulling himself up as soon as Seokmin comes to terms with having him so close. His shampoo smells like coconut. Huh.

 

“The Keurig is still on,” Seokmin comments, watching as he puts his last clean mug under its spout.

 

“My dearest Seokmin, never attempt what I’m about to do.”

 

Soonyoung flings his fridge open; it’s a tiny thing that Jun fills with various takeout containers, and after a substantial amount of rummaging around, Soonyoung reveals a tall, black can with a green ‘M’ on the side. No way. He opens it, smiles devilishly in Seokmin’s direction, and then pours the entire thing into the Keurig’s water tank.

 

“You can’t be serious,” Seokmin says, and it comes out more of a whisper. He’s in awe. “You are literally going to die, and I’m not qualified to resuscitate you.”

 

“I know you must be thinking,” Soonyoung continues his theatrics, gracefully pressing the button to start his coffee brew. “What kind of  _ idiot  _ makes his coffee with an energy drink in place of water?”

 

Seokmin raises an eyebrow, and Soonyoung bends down to be at eye-level, only a little too close for comfort.

 

“You?”

 

“Me.”

 

The smell of the drink permeates through the room and Soonyoung laughs giddily, hopping on the balls of his feet. Seokmin is more awake just watching him, but then again, he sort of has to be alert now that Soonyoung wants to dance on the fine line between life and death. It’s sour and disgusting and it’s the perfect way to stay awake for the next twelve hours. Soonyoung picks up the mug as it’s finished and he frowns.

 

“Second-guessing yourself?” Seokmin knows what the answer will be. Soonyoung may be surprising, but after knowing him for two months, Seokmin is confident in his ability to read him like an open book. He thinks about what Wonwoo would do if he ever found out about this.

 

Another sly grin. “Never, Seokmin. Kwon Soonyoung never backs down from a challenge.”

 

“No one’s challenging you, though.”

 

“It’s a challenge against nature and all things that are right,” he proclaims, taking a quick sip from the mug. His face twists and then returns to normal. “This needs something.”

 

“Let me try it,” Seokmin says, and he’s sort of joking, but Soonyoung hands him the mug anyway and sits back down on the ground, this time much closer to him. He takes a small taste, instantly recoiling. “Oh, Jesus, that is vile.”

 

Soonyoung looks at him expectantly. “It doesn’t need creamer, does it?”

 

“I––no, you  _ dumbass, _ it doesn’t need anything.”

 

“Okay,” Soonyoung breathes. “I trust your judgement.” He takes a big gulp from the mug and looks back at his notes as if Seokmin has ceased to exist.

 

Seokmin pinches himself to make sure he isn’t dreaming. He knows he isn’t, because his mind couldn’t conjure up something so wonderful even if he tried.


	5. Chapter 5

Wonwoo isn’t sure if he loves band or if he absolutely hates it.

 

It’s his freshman year and he doubts that he’ll want to continue on. It’s a good hobby. He’s one of the only males in the clarinet section, but it doesn’t scare him, because the band is a good way of networking if not much else. Their marching band isn’t the largest, but it is respectable, which makes Wonwoo think he’ll miss it when the last football game of the season is played and he’s back in the band building, sun having set a while ago.

 

His section leader, Jeonghan, paces around as Wonwoo carefully takes his uniform off. It’s old and smells like the sweat of the various people who owned it in years past, but it makes him feel proud nonetheless. Marching band was where he’d discovered his love of music and nothing would change that. Wonwoo is just very, very uncertain if it’s worth it to continue.

 

“So, last game.” Jeonghan’s voice carries very well, and since they’re some of the last ones here, Wonwoo knows he’s talking to him. “How’s it feel?”

 

“Alright,” Wonwoo says, and for once, he’s being honest. “How about you? You’ll be an upperclassmen in band next year. That’s gotta be cool, right?”

 

“Like you said,” Jeonghan laughs, “it’s alright.”

 

Jeonghan has a tendency to pry, but he’s also one of the most respected section members. He’s a sophomore and someone with a leadership position, which wasn’t exactly unheard of, but it is quite extraordinary. Wonwoo can’t help but wonder how he’s so well-rounded; from what he knows, Jeonghan is a lazy music education major who skips class often and coasts through his prereqs. Hardly any of that is respectable.

 

“I, uh, might be quitting, actually.”

 

“No way, why?”

 

“To focus on classes,” Wonwoo answers, not exactly sure if it’s the truth. “Band is great and all, but it takes up a lot of time.”

 

Jeonghan pulls his marching shoes off and leans up against the wall, grabbing a foot and massaging it. “Well, I can’t say I disagree, and I definitely won’t be the one to try and stop you, but it is quite upsetting that I’ve only barely gotten to know you, Wonwoo.”

 

The guilt sets in when Jeonghan slips his gym shoes on. It seeps into his bones and makes him reconsider the thoughts he’d had, but he couldn't. Wonwoo simply did not fit in. He is accepted and loved but he is in no way happy. It just isn’t for him, and he wishes he knew the reason why. That is one thing that he’s best at: sabotaging what’s good for him. Wonwoo doesn’t know what went wrong along the way, but somehow, he ends up giving his happiness to the wind, letting the world push him in ways that it saw best. He has no control, and that’s his problem.

 

He figures all of this out after Jeonghan walks out of the band building with him, waving a lackadaisical goodbye as they part ways to their respective dorms.

 

Wonwoo isn’t sure what’s good for him. No, scratch that. He’s a freshman who has no direction in life. He wants to leap at every opportunity, but he finds that it’s a lot harder to do when you’re unmotivated and self-conscious and you hardly have any friends whatsoever. He is ruining what’s good for him, and  _ that  _ was for sure.

 

Before he falls asleep, he makes a mental note to fix his bad habits in the coming new year. Sophomore year would surely treat him kinder.

 

 

* * *

 

Hansol is having a very pleasant Saturday night in the laundry room. While all of the dorm’s inhabitants are out at parties, he is throwing every article of clothing he owns into a washing machine. It isn’t until he slams the door shut and glances through the variety of buttons that he realizes he hasn’t the slightest idea of how to wash his clothes.

 

One quick text later, Seungkwan is downstairs, grumbling at the fact that Hansol is a blithering idiot who can’t possibly be expected to survive on his own in the real world.

 

“Honesty, you nimrod, it isn’t that difficult,” he bickers, pressing a few buttons on the machine. Hansol watches him, taking notes. “I was about to shower!”

 

“I can see that.”

 

Seungkwan is shirtless, wearing a bright pink pair of basketball shorts, and Hansol wants to laugh at him and his state of disarray, but that would just provoke him, and if there was one thing he’d learned in the time he’d been Seungkwan’s friend, it’s that agitating him would just lead to the silent treatment and a load of dirty looks. No, thank you indeed. Not when Hansol is trying his hardest to send a very clear message: ‘Hi, I think I’m starting to like you more than just a friend. Date me?’

 

Hansol realizes he’s been staring. “Hey,” Seungkwan says, poking him in the chest. “You caught all that, right?”

 

“Right.”

 

“Jeesh. Is this the first time you’ve used these machines?”

 

He nods, and Seungkwan heaves a sigh. “How is that even possible?”

 

Hansol gives him a shrug. “I wear my clothes more than once, and I brought all of my dirty stuff home over Thanksgiving, so my mom washed all of it for me. Winter break isn’t for a few weeks though, so I figured I’d give it a shot myself.”

 

“You  _ idiot.” _

 

Smiling, Hansol knows Seungkwan never means it. If he meant it, he wouldn’t have talked to him on the first day of class, or when he’d wiped out on his scooter a few weeks ago. They barely know each other and yet, Hansol has known him his entire life. Two halves of a whole, if you will. Their whole friendship is cheesy, cliché, and Hansol has a good outlook. They spend each night in each other’s rooms, watching TV, doing homework, and talking about random things that cross their minds. It’s a good start, as far as Hansol is concerned.

 

They end up going upstairs once Hansol’s clothes have been through the washer and the dryer, and they’re folding together when Joshua knocks on the frame of the open door, sticking his upper half in the room. 

 

“You guys seem to be enjoying a boisterous Saturday night, huh?” Joshua jokes, coming in when Hansol waves. Seungkwan doesn’t even bat an eye. He lays socks out in pairs on the bed, meticulously looking for matches.

 

“Definitely,” Hansol says. “You too, dude. You’re a junior, why aren’t you out at a bar or something?”

 

“I have all the alcohol I need in my fridge. Besides, my friends and I were planning to play elevator cards later and I wanted to invite you. The more the merrier, right?”

 

Seungkwan speaks up. “What is elevator cards? Is that lingo for something?”

 

“Nope,” Joshua laughs. “It’s exactly what it sounds like. Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and I started the tradition as freshmen, and it’d be fun to pass it on. We play cards in the elevator. Simple as that.”

 

“Jeonghan is your  _ friend?” _

 

Joshua looks surprised to see Seungkwan this animated. Apparently, the topic of Jeonghan is a sore one for him. Hansol isn’t sure why, but then he remembers his name being mentioned when Seungkwan was complaining about his RA the other day. That explains a lot, he thinks.

 

“Well, yeah,” he replies, confused. “Is there something wrong?”

 

“Uh, duh,” Seungkwan retorts. “Jeonghan is my RA. He’s irrational and he makes no sense and he isn’t cool like you.”

 

At this comment, Joshua smirks. “You think I’m cooler than him? I’m going to hold that over his head forever.”

 

Half an hour later, Joshua has dragged them both to the elevator, deck of cards in hand. He claims that they don’t gamble, which Seungkwan scoffs at, but Hansol doesn’t mind. Joshua makes him hold on to a bottle of wine and three glasses, and it occurs to him that their night will most definitely be more fun than everyone else’s. After a few minutes of waiting, the elevator door slides open; Hansol’s first thought is how bad it smells inside. He never takes it, considering he lives on the second floor of the building, but it’s musty and terrible. The perfect recipe for a good game of cards.

 

“Sit in a circle,” Joshua instructs them, and they do. He presses the buttons for the fourth and fifth floors. “Now, we collect the other socially-inept oddballs.”

 

Seungcheol joins them on the fourth floor. He’s the RA up here, and Hansol’s first impression is a good one. His smile is wide and gummy and he introduces himself as Joshua’s better friend, to which Joshua rolls his eyes but nods along with. They continue to the fifth floor, and the door slides open to reveal the most goofy-looking guy Hansol has ever laid eyes on.

 

Jeonghan is wearing a polka-dot bathrobe with matching fuzzy slippers. His hair looks damp, and Hansol assumes he’s just showered. Seungkwan, upon seeing this, looks like he’s witnessed a ghost walk through him. Hansol says nothing, but holds in a laugh.

 

“Ah, you brought the babies along,” Jeonghan says, coming in and claiming his spot in their circle, right between Joshua and Seungcheol. He grabs the wine bottle and pulls his own glass from the bathrobe pocket. Pouring a substantial amount, Joshua deals the cards. Texas Hold Em.

 

As it turns out, Seungkwan doesn’t mind Jeonghan as a person all that much compared to his alter ego as an RA. They laugh together whenever they have equally good hands, and Jeonghan happily refills Seungkwan’s wine glass as he empties it the first time. Hansol has hardly touched his own. White wine is a little too dry for his taste, plus, he wants to be completely sober as he watches Seungkwan get tipsy. It’s all a little hilarious.

 

They spend three hours in the elevator playing cards. Seungcheol is declared the night’s winner, and he stumbles off on the fourth floor. Hansol wonders how he’s so drunk when Jeonghan wasn’t; the latter had left on the fifth floor looking sober as anything despite consuming well over half the bottle of wine himself.

 

As for Joshua, he’s cheery and red-cheeked, not drunk but certainly not sober. The same can’t be said for Seungkwan, who blabbers on about how fluffy Joshua’s hair is, or how ugly Hansol’s pajamas are. He has to have Hansol help him walk down the hall to his room, where all his laundry is still spread out on the bed.

 

“Your entire wardrobe needs an extreme makeover,” Seungkwan notes, falling back on his butt as he tries to sit gracefully on the ground. “You need an extreme makeover.”

 

“Really?” Hansol hums, grabbing the various piles of pants and underwear to move them to his closet drawers. “You think I’m that ugly?”

 

“No,” Seungkwan starts, waving his hands up. “You are the most beautiful guy ever. The most beautiful person on campus. Five stars, Han. Three and a half thumbs up.”

 

“Who the heck has three and a half thumbs?”

 

“Me.”

 

“You?”

 

Hansol finishes putting the clothes away and sits on the ground across from Seungkwan. He isn’t sure if his best friend is even aware of what he’s saying, but he’ll play along regardless. Drunk Seungkwan is a sight to behold, even if he is slightly obnoxious and very, very handsy. Hansol doesn’t even flinch  as he reaches out and touches his face, fingers exploring his cheeks and running over his eyebrows.

 

“So beautiful,” Seungkwan whispers in awe. Hansol finds himself blushing.

 

“You’re really funny, you know that?”

 

“Yeah, and you’re really hot.”

 

Hansol shakes his head. “Seungkwan, I’m not––”

 

Before he can finish his sentence, Seungkwan is leaning up to him, putting his lips lazily on Hansol’s, expecting him to kiss him back. He does. Hansol puts his hands on Seungkwan’s shoulders to steady him. He’s warm and he tastes like the remnants of the wine they’d had and Hansol finds himself loving it, tilting his head and prompting Seungkwan to keep kissing him. For a minute. For a day. For forever, is what Hansol wants.

 

They break apart and Seungkwan goes right back to talking like nothing had happened. Hansol is flushed red at this point. “That was my first kiss, you know,” Seungkwan points out. Hansol’s jaw remains slack in surprise.

 

“Was it really?”

 

“Yes,” he nods solemnly, and for a minute, he thinks the alcohol is wearing off. Seungkwan grins widely, though, and he looks so young. He looks happy. This is the happiest Hansol has ever seen him. “I think kissing is great and all, but you’re probably a really shitty kisser. I’m too inexperienced to know.” His stomach does somersaults.

 

Seungkwan trips over his words and it’s endearing, no matter if he knows what he’s saying or not. He kissed Hansol and Hansol had never felt better. He wonders if Joshua had planned this all out. Knowing how overbearing he is, he doesn’t doubt it.

 

Sure, Hansol could be a shitty kisser. But Seungkwan is even shittier when it comes to seeing the obvious.


	6. Chapter 6

“Watch and learn.”

 

Soonyoung is a lot of things, Seokmin thinks. For one, he’s scatterbrained and often hilarious at all the right moments, especially when he’s having a bad day and needs some cheering up. He’s intelligent; Seokmin has heard numerous times from Wonwoo that Soonyoung is ahead of him in their class ranks. He assumes he’ll graduate as valedictorian in two years if all goes well. Soonyoung is attractive, insightful, nerdy, and as close to perfect as one person can get in Seokmin’s eyes, but the one thing that defines him most?

 

He’s absolutely charming. There is no battle he can’t win when it comes to batting his eyelashes, smiling like the sun, and persuading anyone to give him what he wants. Seokmin has observed it, especially when it came to persuading Wonwoo into doing something for him, and here is no exception.

 

They stand in line at one of the stations of their dining hall. With both hands, Soonyoung holds a tupperware bowl and Seokmin has the lid. Chicken nugget day is the most coveted day on campus and today just so happened to be the day that Soonyoung planned to carry out the biggest nugget heist of the year.

 

“You really think that poor guy is gonna fill your bowl?” Seokmin asks, referring to the worker behind the counter who has been continuously shoveling nuggets onto students’ plates since lunch had started.

 

“No, Seokmin,” Soonyoung says, looking over his shoulder. “I don’t think. I  _ know. _ You see this face?” He gestures to himself, giving Seokmin a smile. “Who could resist it?”

 

_ Not me, _ Seokmin thinks to himself.

 

“I would call you a genius, but I’m afraid that ego of yours would get too big and pop like a balloon.” Seokmin nudges his shoulder playfully. Soonyoung’s giggle sounds throughout the dining hall.

 

“It’s the last nugget day before winter break, and I have to stock up now so that during finals week next week, I can gorge myself on artery-clogging goodness.”

 

“Would Wonwoo approve of this?”

 

The line is moving slowly, just like Soonyoung’s response. “To hell with him,” he grumbles, and Seokmin feels sorry he mentioned him. “All he’s been doing is studying. I feel like he doesn’t even want me around when I go see him in the library.”

 

They’re almost to the counter now. Seokmin opts to change the subject, and that subject is silence until they’ve made it to their table after the nugget heist.

 

To Seokmin’s disbelief, Soonyoung waltzes right up to the counter when it’s their turn, and he asks in a very un-Soonyoung voice, sweet and glazed with manners, if he could please have some extra chicken nuggets, as he is apparently a growing boy who needs the motivation to pass his classes. To further that disbelief, the counter worker shrugs, scoops five hefty servings of nuggets into Soonyoung’s bowl, and empties out the container.

 

They head to a table in the corner and Seokmin still can’t believe what he’s just witnessed. Soonyoung is laughing like a maniac, head thrown back, as he struggles to pull himself together enough to sit down in a seat and not fall over.

 

“I’ll be honest with you,” he says, having choked down all his laughter. “I didn’t actually expect that to work.”

 

“Yeah? I did,” Seokmin says, stealing a nugget from Soonyoung’s bowl.

 

“Really?”

 

He nods, and this time he’s being honest. “You’re you. Of course you’d get what you want. You’re a spoiled brat,” he goes on, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re something else, Soonyoung.”

 

His head rests on his hands, propped up as he chews thoughtfully on his food. “I wish Wonwoo would just take a damn break and come eat with us.” Soonyoung meets Seokmin’s eyes, and it’s like he’s pleading for something. Seokmin wishes he knew what it was.

 

“We’re kind of like the Three Musketeers, now,” Seokmin jokes.

 

“Sure, if two of the Musketeers were fucking and the third one was a permanent third wheel,” Soonyoung retorts. Ouch. He isn’t sure if Soonyoung picks up on how he feels, but a moment later, he apologizes, because Seokmin was sure his face had given away how much the comment had stung. “Too far, man. I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s alright, it  _ is  _ true, basically.”

 

“No,” Soonyoung denies it. “I’m mad at Wonwoo. I’ve been mad at him for, like, a month now. He’s just so––so daft, you know? He doesn’t ever want to talk about what’s bothering him, and when I try to be the good boyfriend, he just pushes me away. It’s annoying!”

 

Seokmin isn’t one for relationship drama. He has no interest in being a mediator between two people who obviously have a lot of issues, but Soonyoung is quickly becoming one of his best friends. “At least you’ll always have me,” he comments, sinking deeper into his chair.

 

“Thank goodness,” Soonyoung murmurs. “You’ve been better to me than he has, that’s for sure.”

 

There are a lot of things that unsettle Seokmin’s stomach. The dining hall food was a usual number one in that category, shortly followed by bad test grades and the thought of never picking a major. However, it’s this remark that sits with him for the rest of the day, making him question his entire existence over and over again until one of his professors has to yell his name in order to snap him out of it.

 

He can be there for Soonyoung if Wonwoo doesn’t want to. There’s no shame in admitting that to himself. Seokmin will not sabotage a relationship, but he sure as hell won’t do anything to stop the relationship from sabotaging itself.

 

It’d be Wonwoo’s loss. He hates himself for thinking that.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Soonyoung spends his first official college spring break with his boyfriend of three and a half months and his family at their cabin by the lake.

 

Here, he thinks, is where he’ll take some well-deserved time to relax with one of his most favorite people on Earth. Instead, upon their arrival, it’s storming something fierce and him and Wonwoo end up sitting on the bed in one of the bedrooms in total darkness because the power has gone out. Wonwoo’s mother gives them a few candles to light, but both of them are too frustrated to get up.

 

“This sucks,” Wonwoo admits. He laces his fingers together with Soonyoung’s. “I’m sorry you have to be here with me.”

 

“I’m not sorry,” Soonyoung says. “It’ll be better soon. I just hope it doesn’t rain the entire time, because I was really looking forward to swimming.”

 

“I didn’t know you liked to swim.”

 

“It’s alright. I’m mostly looking forward to seeing you shirtless.”

 

Wonwoo takes his hand away and punches him lightly on the shoulder. In turn, Soonyoung grabs him and pulls him down so that he’s curled into his side. It’s awkward because he’s so much taller, but Soonyoung doesn’t mind. He’s giggling like a child, running his hands through Wonwoo’s hair. He could stay like this forever. It’s dark and the sound of thunder interrupts the silence, but Soonyoung thinks it’s wonderful. He’s always had the ability to find something positive about situations like this.

 

“Soonyoung,” whispers Wonwoo. His fingers are trailing up and down his forearm, barely hovering there, and Soonyoung is nearly nodding off.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I love you.”

 

Lightning strikes somewhere outside. Wind whips the shutters on the window so that they bang on the sides of the cabin, obtrusive and quite similar to how Soonyoung’s heart feels at hearing Wonwoo say what he’s just said. It’d be easy to repeat those words back to him, easy to give in to what he’s felt since first meeting him, but the storm drowns his thoughts out and he stays quiet until he’s sure Wonwoo has fallen asleep, tucked into his side.

 

Soonyoung shifts his weight slightly so that he’s able to look at him. Wonwoo is beautiful when he sleeps; his eyelashes are fanned out and Soonyoung can see that his face is so much more relaxed when he isn’t awake. He thinks about what he must be dreaming about. Surely, it’s him. Because he isn’t conscious to hear him, and because Soonyoung is the biggest coward in the world, he chooses his words carefully.

 

“I’m just not ready,” he breathes.

 

The weight of the world stays on his shoulders until the end of the week when Wonwoo kisses him goodnight, as he has each day previous, and Soonyoung can hardly say he feels what he wants to be feeling, but that’s just how he is. He waits for the feelings to come, he  _ wants _ them to, but in his current state, he’d just be disappointing Wonwoo if he told him the truth.

 

That’s the thing about love, Soonyoung thinks. It shouldn’t be forced. He likes Wonwoo a lot, he enjoys his company and he genuinely doesn’t want to lose him, but love?

 

Love is a different chapter in their story. Perhaps another story altogether.


	7. Chapter 7

The moment Seungkwan realizes he’s got it bad is when Hansol opens the door to his room and pulls him inside, hugging him tighter than anyone else ever had.

 

Winter break is over and the new semester starts tomorrow; Seungkwan had done the drive back to campus and had just finished unpacking when Hansol had texted him that he was ready anytime Seungkwan wanted to come down and hang out. After a month of not seeing each other, it’s a new feeling altogether when Hansol wraps himself around Seungkwan like it’s the most natural thing to do.

 

“I missed you,” he says quietly, words humming low and soft in Seungkwan’s ear.

 

“I missed you, too,” Seungkwan answers, finally pulling away. “Although, it’s like you never even left while I was home. I never knew what it was like to be texted so much.”

 

Hansol smiles brightly, cheeks hiding his eyes. “I would say I’m sorry, but I’m really not. That’s the upside and the downside to knowing me. You always know that I’ll respond within five seconds.”

 

“It’s a good thing I’ll never get tired of you, Hansol.”

 

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

 

Three hours pass. Seungkwan is still in the same position on Hansol’s bed, laying flat on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling while Hansol talks his ear off and he kindly returns the favor. This is how it usually starts, Seungkwan knows. Him on the bed and Hansol on the floor. They get so involved in a conversation and when it dwindles down, there’s always a few moments before they pick up a new subject. He likes to think of these moments as reflections, because Seungkwan finds himself actually pondering what it means when his heart tugs in his chest, making him want to quit talking and do something about the things he feels.

 

He’s always come to the same conclusion: Hansol is his best friend. Seungkwan has a habit of falling for his friends. Friendships are ruined by Seungkwan’s annoying feelings. Therefore, the only logical solution is to not act. Plain and simple. No action, no inevitable heartbreak, no problem.

 

But when Hansol had hugged him hello, Seungkwan had felt more than a friendship. Either that, or his mind is playing tricks on him once again. He had vowed to himself that, upon starting college, he wouldn’t make the same mistakes he’d made in high school. Lending his heart to the nearest attractive and personable friend he made hadn’t ever worked out in the past.

 

Seungkwan  _ knows _ this, so why is it so hard to stop himself from falling even deeper than he already is? Every word Hansol says, he hangs off of. It’s despicable. 

 

“So, anyway, I’m taking this really interesting-looking programming class, and I’m actually really nervous, since it applies to my major,” Hansol says, voice drifting back into Seungkwan’s ears.

 

“Oh, definitely,” he replies halfheartedly. Hansol already knows what he’s doing with his life; as a computer science major, he has tons of potential in the workforce. Seungkwan, on the other hand, decided on a whim to go into math because he likes solving problems. It’s kind of ironic that he can speed through a trigonometry lesson but can’t manage to sort out his own life.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

Hansol gets up from his place on the floor and stands at the side of the bed, hovering over him. He looks concerned. Seungkwan doesn’t want to feel pitied.

 

“Nothing. Just tired, I guess.”

 

“You don’t seem like yourself. Tell me what’s wrong.”

 

“No, thank you.”

 

Apparently, this answer doesn’t suffice, because Hansol flops down on top of him, legs half off the bed, and he doesn’t move. Seungkwan is so taken aback by this that he doesn’t have an argument to formulate.

 

“Tell me or else,” Hansol says menacingly.

 

“Or else what?” Seungkwan asks, hardly able to breathe. Hansol is a lot heavier than he looks, that’s for sure.

 

“Or else I’ll never get off of you and you’ll just be trapped here forever.”

 

“I’ll tell you if you get your fatass off of my lungs so I can  _ inhale.” _

 

Hansol laughs, pulling himself up so that he can sit at the foot of his bed, all of his weight now off of Seungkwan. He sits up as well, and they sit facing each other, not saying anything for a while but still talking, somehow. Seungkwan doesn’t think it’s weird that they have some sort of connection like this. He can move his eyebrows a certain way and Hansol gets the gist of the entire conversation.

 

“So,” Seungkwan starts. His excuses are limited. He could just projectile vomit to get out of telling Hansol the truth, but his internal conflict wasn’t worth the risk of getting Hansol’s sheets covered in what he’d eaten for lunch.

 

“Do you remember when we played elevator cards?” Hansol interrupts him.

 

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?”

 

“It doesn’t. I was just reminded of you getting drunk and crashing in here. You slept on the bed and I slept on the floor, remember?”

 

Seungkwan does remember. He nods, thinking back to that night. It was, what, a month ago now? He recalls sitting in the elevator, cracking dumb jokes with Jeonghan, and gulping down four glasses of white wine. He also thinks about how Joshua had laughed and called him a lightweight. Ah, good times.

 

“How nice of you,” Seungkwan says. “You let me sleep in your bed. I don’t even remember waking up in here.”

 

“Yeah,” Hansol sighs. “And that kiss, too. I can’t believe you called me a shitty kisser.”

 

Oh. That’s something Seungkwan most certainly does not remember. Knots form in his stomach and he thinks he must be turning every shade of red visible to the human eye.

 

“What kiss?” he asks stupidly.

 

Hansol is smirking and Seungkwan can’t find it in him to resist it. “You kissed me,” Hansol says, “because you were drunk.”

 

As it turns out, Seungkwan is a lot more bold than he’d originally thought himself to be when he’s drunk. A lot bolder, a lot braver, and a whole lot more stupid. Would he kiss Hansol sober? The answer is a definite no. Provided he’d had enough wine to drink, apparently kissing Hansol while he’s drunk is something he’s open to trying. Would he kiss Hansol sober? The answer is a maybe. Provided the right timing and the right environment, and after he’s put his feelings out there, Seungkwan would consider it.

 

Would he kiss Hansol sober?

 

The answer is yes, because he pretty much tackles him down on the bed and presses their lips together only a little forcefully. Hansol wraps his arms around his back like he’d done upon first greeting him, and Seungkwan’s eyes flutter shut. He takes Hansol in as he kisses him; he feels soft and vulnerable and not as cool as he had months ago, but Seungkwan loves it. He loves that Hansol kisses him back with the same force Seungkwan feels pounding away in his chest. He loves how awkward and real it feels.

 

They separate and Seungkwan is suddenly very conscious of the fact that he’s literally on top of his best friend in his bed. 

 

Hansol’s eyes are searching his and Seungkwan finds the words to illustrate exactly what he needs to convey to him before he lets go of his grip completely; his fingernails are still digging into the cliff he dangles from, so he seeks to put an end to the torture.

 

“I didn’t kiss you because I was drunk,” he whispers, swallowing his fear. “I kissed you because I like you.  _ Really _ like you. And that’s me talking, not the wine I drank that night.”

 

Seungkwan pushes himself up off the bed, slides his shoes back on, and leaves Hansol’s room without waiting for a response. 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Soonyoung doesn’t really get why Seokmin can be so loud and boisterous with Mingyu. Surely, he knows him better. Surely, they’ve grown to be best friends by this point.

 

He observes this when he strolls into the dining hall one morning. The second semester starts today, which means all the other students determined to eat a balanced breakfast before classes (who inevitably give up trying to be healthy) are crowding the stations and each table is filled.

 

A muffin seems like a decent option. Soonyoung opts for blueberry. He grabs a cup and fills it with orange juice, right to the brim, and scans his options for where to sit. He usually has at least ten friends wherever he goes, but no one looks familiar from where he stands on the side. That’s when he hears someone cackle from the back corner. He’d know that laugh anywhere.

 

Soonyoung waltzes up to the table, expecting to see that blinding smile he’d become very familiar with, but instead, Mingyu waves and Seokmin meets his eyes and suddenly, Soonyoung doesn’t feel very welcome. This is new.

 

“Soonyoung!” Mingyu exclaims, pulling out the chair next to him. Soonyoung takes it.

 

“Good morning, Mingyu,” he says, setting his plate and cup down. “Seokmin.” He acknowledges him with a nod, and Seokmin gives him a smile, but Soonyoung wants to know why it’s diluted, as if he and Mingyu weren’t cracking up just a moment ago.

 

“Excited about classes?” Soonyoung asks them, taking a bite from his muffin.

 

“Hardly,” says Seokmin.

 

Knowing the struggle of not being decided with a major is something Soonyoung can resonate with. That’s why he thinks him and Seokmin get along so well. It’s one of the many reasons they click the way they do. And, after being on better terms with his boyfriend, Soonyoung knows this is something that strengthens him and Seokmin’s friendship. Having friends that aren’t Wonwoo is good; something Wonwoo doesn’t seem to understand is that he also needs his own friends, which is why Soonyoung is so willing to accept these freshman into their little circle.

 

They eat in comfortable silence for fifteen minutes or so when Seokmin gets up abruptly, grabbing his backpack and his tray.

 

“I gotta head to my biology lecture,” he explains, smiling. “Mingyu, are we still good for lunch?”

 

“Of course!” Mingyu smiles back. Soonyoung is starting to think he shouldn’t be involved in this whole exchange.

 

“Alright, I’ll catch you later. See you, Soonyoung.”

 

He walks off quickly, dropping his tray in the cleaning carousel, and Soonyoung watches him carefully, trying to figure out why it seems like he wants nothing to do with him whatsoever. This is the first time he’s seeing him since winter break had started and since ended. When he looks back to his half-eaten muffin, Mingyu is eyeing him expectantly.

 

“What?” Soonyoung asks.

 

“What’s got your panties in a wad?” he taunts. 

 

Soonyoung knows Mingyu through Wonwoo, surprisingly. He’s a freshman who managed to land a job in the library alongside him, and Wonwoo claims he’s the second smartest person he knows (aside from himself). They’ve played frisbee together since school had started in August; Soonyoung hardly expects to be spilling his feelings and concerns to him.

 

“Nothing, asshole,” Soonyoung answers. “I just want to know how you and Seokmin got to be so friendly with each other.”

 

Mingyu’s eyes soften. “Oh, we have our religious studies class together! He was in here before I was, and I recognized him from that one time you hit him in the face with our frisbee, so I sat here, and we hit it off.”

 

“Hit it off, eh?”

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Mingyu says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Why do you seem so concerned?”

 

“Because I  _ am _ concerned,” he shoots back, biting a little too aggressively from what’s left of his muffin. “You and him were all buddy-buddy before I sat down here. Usually he’s like that with  _ me.” _

 

“Aww, is someone jealous?” He’s teasing him again. Mingyu gets up then, says a quick goodbye, and heads out, leaving Soonyoung alone with a plate of muffin crumbs and an empty cup.

 

And quite honestly, Soonyoung is jealous. For what reason, he doesn’t know, but that’s the least he can admit to himself. Did Seokmin do some soul-searching over break and decide he didn’t want to be friends with someone so compulsive and outgoing? Then again, when they were together, they were  _ both _ compulsive and outgoing. Did Mingyu really make a better friend then he did?

 

Soonyoung is definitely, one hundred and ten percent jealous.

 

And he’s going to get to the bottom of this.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sigh. i love romance and angst.


	8. Chapter 8

Hansol is a simple man. He eats, he sleeps, he watches too much television for a college student, and he most certainly enjoys the luxury of being able to become emotionally distant, as does every male his age.

 

Which is why, the day after Seungkwan freaks out and admits he has feelings for him, Hansol doesn’t text him, call him, or see him. At all. Whatsoever. He has to admit, sitting around doing nothing is far from the most fun he could be having if he just stopped worrying and sent Seungkwan a quick message saying something along the lines of ‘Hey, so, you like me? I like you too. Let’s be best friends that date.’

 

Best friends that date. Hansol has never dated anyone ever. Surely, there is a better way to go about this than ignoring it, but, nevertheless, he sits in his dorm tossing a baseball up and down, catching it, and repeating, as if the monotonous motions will somehow erase all of his feelings and responsibilities.

 

Seungkwan is a good friend and an even better counselor. He gives such good advice; when Hansol needed to decide on classes for the semester, Seungkwan had Skyped him over break just to make sure he was doing everything right. If the ordeal wasn’t concerning him, Hansol would call him in an instant and beg for help. However, that’s not going to happen, considering there’s some weird air surrounding their friendship and Hansol figures it’s best to let it sit for a while.

 

He decides to get out of his room for a bit. It’s cold, so he throws on his winter coat and wraps his scarf around his neck. It’s ugly, and Seungkwan had told him that the day they had met for the second time, but it’s a birthday gift from his sister, so he wears it proudly. Because he doesn’t own gloves, he shoves his hands in his pockets as far as they’ll go, and he heads outside.

 

Gloves. He can get those at the mini mart in the student center. That’s where he walks.

 

Although the campus isn’t as big as some, it’s spread out to the point where it takes Hansol a good seven to ten minutes to get from his dorm to the student center. He attributes it to the campus size as well as his leisurely pace, considering he has nowhere to be and nothing to do except get some gloves. The first day of classes was today, and as much as Hansol wants to throw himself into the new semester and feel motivated, he instead just feels like prolonging the inevitable. 

 

“Need any help finding something?” The counter worker wears a bright red apron and his black hair is a little staticy from the winter dryness. Hansol reads his nametag. Soonyoung.

 

“Do you guys have gloves?” Hansol asks, pulling his hands from his pockets and rubbing them together. “I think it’s time to stop letting myself freeze.”

 

Soonyoung laughs, throwing his head back. Hansol doesn’t expect such a high-pitched noise to come out of such a dark-looking guy, but it does, and it makes him smile right along with him.

 

“Of course,” he answers brightly. “The aisle next to the notebooks should have what you’re looking for.”

 

Hansol thanks him and walks over to where he’d pointed; there’s a measly selection of gloves, all of them seemingly too small for his hands, but he finds a large, yellow pair behind some woven mittens that match his scarf almost perfectly. As he goes back up to the counter, Hansol scolds himself for becoming the type of person to consciously match his winter accessories.

 

“Is this all for you?” Soonyoung asks him, scanning the little tag on the gloves. Hansol swipes his student ID to pay.

 

“Yeah, I only have a few dollars left in my account anyways.”

 

“Dude, you know it resets each semester right? Your balance is in the nineties.”

 

“Really?” Hansol exclaims. “In that case, hold on.”

 

He turns around, leaving the gloves at the counter, and heads for the candy. Hansol has to think back to all of him and Seungkwan’s late night conversations before he remembers that his favorite is Twix, and luckily, there’s an abundance. He grabs two bars. Maybe this will be a suitable icebreaker. Why he needs an icebreaker to talk to his best friend, he doesn’t know, but it’ll give Hansol an excuse to stop by his room, at least.

 

“Twix,” Soonyoung observes, ringing him up a second time. He leaves the gloves out of the bag, but shoves the candy in, and he rips the glove tag off so Hansol can wear them. “Not a very popular item here, for some reason.”

 

“I wonder why,” muses Hansol.

 

“There’s only one person I know who likes them.”

 

“That’s funny, because there’s only one person  _ I  _ know that likes them, too.”

 

Soonyoung seems like a good guy. Hansol hasn’t been in the mini mart enough times to notice him working here, but he’s glad they strike up a conversation. His mannerisms remind him of his dog, mostly because he tilts his head curiously at what Hansol points out.

 

“Would his name happen to be Seokmin?” Soonyoung asks.

 

“No,” he says. “It’s Seungkwan.”

 

Soonyoung clicks his tongue, smiling faintly. “Shame,” he says, handing Hansol his bag. “See you around?”

 

Hansol realizes Soonyoung never got his name. “Hansol,” he affirms. “See you.”

 

Maybe there’s more to life than having just one friend, Hansol thinks, clambering down the stairs to leave the student center. But Seungkwan is the most important friend he has. Once he gets back to the dorm building, he takes the elevator up to the fifth floor, walks down the hall, and stands in front of Seungkwan’s door.

 

He stares blankly, wanting to reach out a hand to knock and then talk about whatever it is the two of them are probably collectively feeling, but Hansol can only drop his shoulders, sigh, and leave the bag resting against the door.

 

Seungkwan will get it eventually.

 

 

* * *

 

 

There’s nothing better than working in the mini mart, Soonyoung thinks, as he restocks the shelf where the snack-sized bags of chips are. He makes good money that goes toward tuition, he has something worthy of going on his resume, and he gets to eat as much of the merchandise as he wants, provided he doesn’t get caught.

 

He tears open a bag of salt and vinegar chips as he stands behind the counter, and although he doesn’t get caught, he does get surprised by the person who comes in the door right after Hansol leaves.

 

“Seokmin!” he calls, and Seokmin snaps his gaze over to Soonyoung, quick enough to catch him off-guard. His smile falters momentarily, but Seokmin waves and grins, which is enough to fuel himself in return.

 

“You never told me you work here,” Seokmin says, walking up to the counter. Soonyoung leans in on his hands, rocking back and forth on his tiptoes. He wonders why he’s so happy to see him, and then he remembers the incident at breakfast this morning, which makes him all the more happy that Seokmin hadn’t seemed mad to see  _ him. _

 

He shrugs. “Guess it never really came up in conversations,” he says. “It’s not like we spend much time talking about our jobs. That’s boring.”

 

“Point taken.”

 

“If you’re looking for Twix, they’re in aisle four,” Soonyoung butts in.

 

Seokmin shakes his head with a smile. “You know me so well.”

 

Maybe Seokmin is a Twix bar, Soonyoung thinks, allowing his mind to wander to strange places as Seokmin darts off to find his candy. He’s sweet, he can be gooey sometimes, and, as this morning had shown him, he definitely has a crunchy side. Soonyoung wonders how he got to know him so well so quickly, but then again, the two of them are similar enough to the point that Soonyoung felt as though he was getting to know himself, or at least another side of him. It’s strange. He shakes himself out of it as Seokmin comes back to the counter.

 

“Are you a Twix bar?” Before he can stop himself, Soonyoung blurts his thoughts out. He smacks his hands over his mouth as Seokmin erupts with laughter, bending over and holding his ribs. “Sorry, that’s not what I meant.”

 

“What did you mean?” Seokmin manages to choke out, setting his candy on the counter. 

 

“To tell you the truth, I don’t really know.”

 

They’re both laughing and causing a scene, but Soonyoung doesn’t care. No one else is in the shop, so he lets himself cackle as loud as he wants to. That’s what he gets for being an idiot.

 

“Listen,” Seokmin says, looking less enthused now. “Was something wrong at breakfast? You were glaring at Mingyu like he’d killed your family or something.”

 

“Oh,” he sputters. “No, trust me. I’m good. We’re good. Are we good? We’re good, right?” Yeah, very smooth, he thinks. 

 

“Of course we’re good,” he answers, voice soft. He sounds genuine enough, and his eyes melt whatever negativity Soonyoung had felt at the table earlier. He’s being stupid. But why? Why does he care this much? “But you scared me.”

 

“You scared  _ me,”  _ Soonyoung admits. “You and Mingyu were all loud and happy before I sat down, and when I came over, you looked…” Soonyoung trails off, looking for a word. “Well, you looked not like yourself. Not like how I know you, you know?”

 

“How  _ do _ you know me?”

 

“You’re the dashing sidekick in my story,” Soonyoung says, smiling widely. Seokmin’s eyebrows shoot up in questioning. “Always happy, always laughing at my jokes, attractive, but not as attractive as the hero, and super awesome and stuff.”

 

Seokmin takes his bag in his hands and runs the handle through his fingers a few times. He stares at Soonyoung for a while, and Soonyoung turns to Jello inside. It reminds him of the first time he’d met Wonwoo, after pelting him with snowballs, because his eyes say ten million different things that Soonyoung is unable to recognize. He’s so bad at this. He’s so, so terrible at recognizing the things he should be doing.

 

“So,” Seokmin starts. “You think I’m attractive, but not as attractive as you?”

 

“That’s what you chose to focus on? Of all the things I said?”

 

Seokmin chuckles and then strikes a ridiculous pose in the middle of the store. Soonyoung, having taken it in, shoos him away. “Stop being weird,” he wheezes.

 

“I’ll stop being weird when you stop being an egotistical maniac,” Seokmin retorts, pulling the shop door open. “Oh, and for the record, your hair is frizzy.”

 

Soonyoung immediately reaches for his head, wanting to pat his hair down, but Seokmin holds up two hands from where he stands, halfway out the door. “No,” he calls. “It’s cute. Leave it like that, and you might get more coins in your tip jar.” And then he walks out after winking obnoxiously, leaving Soonyoung to digest his words.

 

Seokmin thinks he’s cute. Right? Slowly, his arms come back down to his sides, and he stares at a point on the floor, coming to a few conclusions.

 

The mini mart doesn’t even have a tip jar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay, i finally brought two storylines together (not really together together, but we'll get to that point eventually).  
> seoksoon dialogue is fun to write.  
> verkwan dialogue isn't even happening but i bet it'd be angsty as heck if it were.
> 
> if you want, leave me a comment! :-)


	9. Chapter 9

Wonwoo is getting off early from his shift at the library and he couldn’t be happier. It’s true that he loves working the counter and he loves swiping ID cards when other students check out books, but he also loves his boyfriend, and so he now has to prepare for their date, which would consist of biking around the lakes on campus.

 

“You look way too happy,” Mingyu points out, sticking some magazines in the re-label folder. “It’s weird. You never smile to yourself like that.”

 

“How would you know?” Wonwoo shoots back. He’s spinning back and forth in the rolling chair, grinning like an idiot.

 

Mingyu cocks his head. “I mean, I have known you for, like, this entire year. Let’s see,” he says, tapping a finger on his chin. “Since August, and it’s March now, so that’s seven whole months we’ve been coworkers.”

 

Wonwoo stops spinning long enough to glare at him. “Your point?”

 

“Nothing,” he laughs, “just that you look very,  _ very _ happy.”

 

“When you’re in love, Mingyu, then you’ll understand.”

 

This comment prompts a very disgusted-looking Mingyu to gag dramatically, and Wonwoo rolls his eyes. Usually he’s not one to make sappy comments, but it is true; Soonyoung makes him very, very happy indeed. They haven’t been on a proper date in a while, mostly because the second semester is finally starting to weigh down heavily on both of them, but Wonwoo has a small amount of homework and it’s a Friday, which means it’s the weekend, which means they can actually see each other for more than an hour at most.

 

Mingyu had happily agreed to cover for Wonwoo so that he could leave early, and he’s thankful they’ve grown to be such good friends. As much as the freshman gets on his nerves sometimes, Wonwoo knows he has good intentions in everything he does. He remembers distinctly, upon Mingyu’s hiring, he’d walked into the bathroom to find him crying tears of joy, giving himself a well-deserved pep talk in the mirror.

 

It’s funny that they’re complete opposites in lots of ways, but Wonwoo knows he’s pure at heart, and that’s all he could ask for in a friend.

 

“The day I fall in love will be the day I admit that you’re right, but until then, you are definitely not getting that satisfaction from me.”

 

Wonwoo snickers. “Sure. Scan that guy’s ID, would you?”

 

Mingyu looks up to see the student waiting at the counter. Wonwoo wonders why he hasn’t come all the way up, but as soon as Mingyu turns around to go help him check out, the guy sets the books fervently on the countertop, turns, and scampers away, heading out of the library’s front doors. Mingyu holds up a hand in confusion, and then some sort of realization crosses his face, making Wonwoo wonder how someone like Mingyu could possibly have that effect on anyone.

 

“What the heck?” he inquires, expecting Mingyu to answer. He faces him again, eyebrows scrunched.

 

“Don’t ask,” Mingyu says, somewhat bitterly, to Wonwoo’s surprise.

 

“Did you know him or something? Why’d he run away?”

 

“Yeah, I think that was him.”

 

_ “Who?” _

 

Mingyu frowns, shaking his head. Wonwoo wonders why he’s so sad-looking all of a sudden. Usually, Mingyu isn’t one to let things get him down, but he’s never seen him like this before. He seems frustrated as he takes the books on the counter and puts them in the cart to re-shelf. 

 

“That,” he starts, sitting down in the chair opposite Wonwoo, “was my best friend from high school. A ghost I never expected to see haunting this campus.”

 

“Excuse me?” Wonwoo asks. “Your best friend? Why did he run away then?”

 

“Long story,” Mingyu sighs. He looks up at the clock on the wall. “It’s 4 P.M. now, so you should go and meet Soonyoung. I’ll man the station,” he says, smiling faintly.

 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Wonwoo doesn’t want to leave him if there’s something going on, or if he wants to talk about what just happened, but Mingyu goes back to staring at the screen of the computer on the counter, scrolling through archives of books.

 

“I’m fine. It’s a story for another day.”

 

So, Wonwoo leaves, slinging his backpack over one shoulder, trusting that Mingyu would discuss his life story at a different time. Right now, all he can think about is seeing Soonyoung and having an enjoyable evening. Wonwoo walks quickly through campus, spring breeze ruffling his hair, and he feels refreshed most of all.

 

When he gets to Soonyoung’s dorm, Jun is sprawled out on the futon, psychology textbook wide open on his stomach. He’s snoring when Wonwoo enters, but jolts awake as soon as he shuts the door. While Jun isn’t usually the type of person Wonwoo would go out of his way to make friends with, he kind of has to like him, considering he’s Soonyoung’s roommate and one of  _ his  _ best friends. To each his own, he supposes.

 

“Hey,” Wonwoo greets him. Jun wipes the drool from his chin unenthusiastically. “Where’s Soonyoung?”

 

“No clue,” Jun grumbles, stretching his arms up in the air. “I passed out trying to understand these concepts for my psych quiz tomorrow, and I was just drifting off when him and Seokmin left, so––”

 

“Seokmin?” he emphasizes, curiously. What had Seokmin been doing here? Wonwoo knows that his boyfriend had quickly formed a friendship with him, but he doesn’t expect that they must hang out all that often. Soonyoung doesn’t have an abundance of time, between his classes and his job at the mini mart. 

 

Jun shuts the cover of his textbook, nodding lazily. “Yeah. They were in here playing Mario Kart on the TV,” he says. “I heard something about going to the student center to get Starbucks, but I could be wrong.” He shrugs.

 

“Well, we’re supposed to be biking around the lakes in half an hour. I scheduled this date, like, two weeks ago.”

 

“Dude, chill,” Jun laughs. That’s one thing that always throws Wonwoo off-kilter. Jun is a go-with-the-flow, full nonsense type of person, and it’s obvious as to how he and Soonyoung get along so famously. Jun never seems to think anything is a big deal even when it is. Wonwoo, on the other hand, is obsessed with perfecting details, and Soonyoung? Well, he’s a mix of the two of them, which is probably why he’s dating him and rooming with the other.

 

“I cannot chill,” Wonwoo says, opening the door back up. “And for the love of all that is holy and good in the world, _ please _ clean your room up. It’s a mess.”

 

“Sure mom,” Jun calls as Wonwoo steps back outside.

 

He stands there for a few seconds, hand on the doorknob, and wonders why Soonyoung isn’t taking this seriously. If he knew they had a date tonight, why would he go off and get coffee with Seokmin? It makes no sense. As he begins the walk over to the student center, he shoots Soonyoung a text asking where he is, and it also makes no sense as to why Wonwoo feels so distressed.

 

Soonyoung has told him multiple times that it’s natural to have good friends outside of a relationship, as long as the person you're dating remains your number one priority. Honestly, Wonwoo thinks it’s one-sided advice. Soonyoung is one of the more popular people around the school’s community, and Wonwoo? Well, he’s nobody without him. The only reason he goes to parties is because of Soonyoung. He got his job in the library because of Soonyoung. Most of who he is was brought out and magnified by Soonyoung. 

 

Soonyoung, on the other hand, is completely and undeniably his own person, through and through. Wonwoo doesn’t think there’s a reason they’re together, until he remembers all the times Soonyoung has needed him for help organizing his life, or deciding his future, and all their late-night conversations before actually getting together are what Wonwoo has valued most. Soonyoung does need him, but in a completely different way, and it’s frustrating to no end.

 

The most frustrating thing, though, is when Jun turns out to be right, because Wonwoo can see Soonyoung in Starbucks, through the student center’s large, floor-to-ceiling windows, and he’s sipping from the straw of his drink, sitting forward in a booth seat across from Seokmin.

 

He doesn’t bother going in. Instead, Wonwoo bikes around the lake himself until it gets dark, wishing he could work up the courage to take a step back and think about if he’s doing anything wrong in giving Soonyoung his heart like this.

 

It’s an honest mistake, is what Wonwoo thinks when he goes to bed that night. Soonyoung had never even responded to his text.

 

As usual, he’s hard to pin down. Maybe he should stop trying.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Libraries are useful things. They’re great places to go when you’re out of the dorm with nothing to do, which is exactly the situation Seungkwan is faced with. He doesn’t want to go for a jog with Hansol, who insists they’re on good terms, and so he finds himself grazing the shelves alone, looking for nothing in particular.

 

Seungkwan has a lot of thoughts when he traipses past the romance novels with cheesy covers and literally zero representation of the LGBT community; shirtless guys and damsels in distress is simply not Seungkwan’s reality. His reality is jogging around campus right now. His reality is shoving his feelings into a tight container, separate from him and Hansol’s friendship, because he knows he has the power to ruin it if he opens said container. He tried. Seungkwan doesn’t exactly regret kissing Hansol two months ago, but ever since then, it’s been like Hansol is on the verge of saying some great, profound thing every time they’re together, and it makes Seungkwan anxious, so he doesn’t acknowledge it. Hansol is his best friend, and that’s all he wants him to be.

 

The library is the perfect place on a Friday afternoon. Seungkwan likes it here. He supposes he’ll visit more often, but then again, he’s never really been one to read for pleasure. Walking in between shelves, he scans book titles, waiting for one to catch his eye. He does this until he notices he’s been pacing around aimlessly for almost an hour, according to a clock on the wall, so he grabs a few random books from the astrology section, figuring they’ll be interesting enough to scan through when he gets the time. All he knows is that he’s a Capricorn, which doesn’t mean much to him now, but who knows?

 

Downstairs at the counter, Seungkwan notices two of the student employees talking rather animatedly about something, and while he isn’t one to eavesdrop, he does hear the name Soonyoung thrown into the conversation. Small world, he concludes. Hansol had told him about a guy he’d met at the mini mart named Soonyoung. 

 

Something doesn’t really feel right, he thinks, as Seungkwan sets his books on the counter and the taller of the two students turns to check them out for him. Call it a premonition, but Seungkwan feels as though his world is falling through when he meets the employee’s eyes.

 

Oh. It’s Mingyu. The little nametag pinned to his shirt even says so, in tiny, blocked letters. 

 

Seungkwan is definitely one to run away from his problems, so that’s exactly what he does, mind blank and heart pounding like a drum in his ears as he leaves the library, flustered beyond belief. He doesn’t look back. He hardly cares that leaving his books on the counter and walking out was probably really, really weird and not at all what Mingyu was expecting, but, nevertheless, Seungkwan does it.

 

There used to be another container Seungkwan kept his feelings in, one that he attained in high school, one that he opened and one he regrets with every inch of his being. He recalls the feeling of falling in love with a best friend, and although it was more than a year ago, it all comes flooding back, drowning his heart and his mind and all of his thoughts, because you never really expect the first guy you fall in love with to be working the library counter at your college, now do you?

 

That container is also labeled with a nametag, and written in the same small, block letters, is the name Mingyu. Seungkwan knows now that things couldn’t possibly get much worse. Surprisingly, he can’t wait until Hansol is finished with his jog so he can go sit and talk in his room with him and explain how his high school past has apparently come back to haunt him.

 

Never fall in love with your best friend is Seungkwan’s number one rule. He’s broken it a total of two times, and the consequences are named Mingyu and Hansol. He’s cursed, is what’s obvious.

 

For a second, Seungkwan considers the implications of seeing Mingyu again. He hasn’t heard from him since graduation, and that was well after they’d drifted apart beyond repair. If he’s being honest with himself, Seungkwan thinks it’s a sign, but all the alarms in his chest are ringing at full blast, telling him to ignore whatever fate decides to throw at him. Mingyu is a difficult subject for Seungkwan. Mingyu is someone he’d never expected to see ever again. Mingyu still looks too perfect for his own good. Seungkwan shakes the thought from his head.

 

It’s a story for another time, because Seungkwan doesn’t really feel like reopening the book and being sucked into the same feeling of rejection as of late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love angst!!  
> the kwan/mingyu storyline is a very interesting one, very angsty, and it'll be told eventually.


	10. Chapter 10

As chance would have it, when Seungkwan goes back to the dorm and knocks on Hansol’s door, he’s already inside, sweaty and glistening from his run. Seungkwan comes in and tries to ignore him as he pulls his t-shirt off and puts on a new one.

 

“What’s up?” Hansol asks. Seungkwan sits down on the edge of his bed.

 

“Do you mind if I tell you a story?”

 

When Hansol shakes his head, now looking concerned, Seungkwan holds back everything for a moment and then lets it all go in one long, winded explanation of why he is the way he is.

 

It all starts back in high school.

 

Now, to preface, Seungkwan knows he’d never been the most popular person in the school, which was fairly large at around 2,000 students. However, he does know that he was probably the most well-rounded person to go there. Seungkwan liked to be apart of things, and that meant joining choir, chess club, the debate team, as well as various academic clubs for his somewhat outstanding GPA. He was a jack of all trades, in a sense. Choir is where he met Mingyu his freshman year, and honestly, Seungkwan hated him at first. They were both tenors, but Mingyu never seemed to care as much as him, who always tried hard at everything. He tried especially hard when it came to making connections, but he still lacked a fundamental thing that every normal high school freshman seemed to have. A best friend.

 

Coming into freshman year choir, it was true that he didn’t like Mingyu. It was also true that Mingyu had nobody. He wasn’t like Seungkwan, who always found someone he knew based strictly on his various extracurriculars. Mingyu always sat by himself at lunch, he never talked to anyone in choir, and he certainly didn’t strike Seungkwan as the type of person he’d go out of his way to befriend.

 

Nevertheless, Mingyu had an amazing voice, and Seungkwan found himself sitting with him at lunch one day, pestering him as to why he didn’t try harder in choir when he had the tone of an angel.

 

“You should really try opening your mouth more when you sing,” Seungkwan points out, staring across the lunch table at Mingyu. He takes a bite out of his apple. “That way, people could actually hear your talent.”

 

“And you should try _ closing  _ your mouth more when you eat,” Mingyu shoots back, smiling. Seungkwan frowns, knowing he’s lost this battle.

 

“Fine. Don’t take my advice then.”

 

“I’m Seungkwan,” he interrupts, realizing he never introduced himself.

 

“I know,” answers Mingyu, sipping from his water bottle. “Our choir director loves you.”

 

So, like most friendships, they started as classmates. Eventually, after their first concert, Seungkwan came to the conclusion that Mingyu did actually want to be his friend, because they had spent the entire time making faces at each other in the middle of singing their pieces. Exactly when Seungkwan realized he wanted to be more than friends, though, is a little bit more of a blurry area.

 

He does know that it freaked Mingyu out. Seungkwan remembers the moment he confessed to him, and he also remembers the look on his face, the complete rejection, and the sound of his own heart shattering into ten billion razored fragments. That was the thing about them; everything had been so gradual that Seungkwan hardly saw it coming himself.

 

It was senior year, and they had made the dumb decision to go to a New Year’s party. Granted, high school parties aren’t all that great, although the attendees seem to think way too highly of themselves. High school students aren’t cool, but Seungkwan and Mingyu certainly acted like they were. Mingyu’s lab partner had invited them, and Seungkwan had been the one to make them go, all with a master plan in mind.

 

He was going to kiss Mingyu at midnight.

 

In retrospect, Seungkwan doesn’t remember all the nitty gritty details, mostly because he had had a cup or two full of some cheap beer that had been laying around. Mingyu didn’t drink, but he was there for him the entire night, and eventually, they had ended up outside on the porch together amidst a few other couples doing some questionable things.

 

“Mingyu,” Seungkwan says, fully aware of how close they’re standing, leaning up against the railing. “I have to tell you something very important.”

 

“How important?” Mingyu’s voice is soft, as usual, and it’s something that makes Seungkwan’s stomach churn and his heart flail wildly somewhere in his chest. “Is it something you’re conscious of saying, or is it the shitty alcohol talking?”

 

“I’m only tipsy,” he admits, and it’s true. “But seriously, will you hear me out?”

 

“Of course.”

 

He takes a deep breath, and despite the fact that Mingyu is his best friend, Seungkwan feels nervous. He’s never felt nervous with him, throughout the entire time he’d known him, which is saying a lot. Mingyu is the type of person that could probably grow up to be therapist, or a school counselor, or something like that, because every time Seungkwan has ever felt anxious (which is, to be honest, a lot of times), he knows Mingyu will support him. He’s always had his back. Maybe, if Mingyu hadn’t been such a perfect friend, with an even more perfect face, Seungkwan wouldn’t be in this situation, but then again, his heart is very easily held captive. 

 

“I’ve been thinking,” Seungkwan starts, locking his fingers together to stop himself from fidgeting. “You’re my best friend, so it probably might be weird, but I think I kind of, y’know...”

 

“Kind of what?” Mingyu prompts, leaning in slightly. 

 

Seungkwan meets his eyes and instantly regrets it, because they’re so calculating and warm at the same time, but he’s so oblivious and it’s driving Seungkwan up a wall at how clearly he has to draw things out for him. Mingyu is the first person he’ll ever be confessing to, he thinks. He’s the first guy he’s ever liked. He’s the first best friend he’s ever had. He’s a lot of firsts, but if Seungkwan had to make a list of all the most observant people he knew, Mingyu would come dead last.

 

“I like you,” he blurts out. “More than my best friend, but also as my best friend, too.”

 

“What do you mean?” he responds, taking a step back. Seungkwan tries to ease whatever weird tension that has just developed.

 

“What do you mean, what do  _ I _ mean? Isn’t it obvious?” he scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “I have a massive crush on you, and I thought you’d maybe want to know.”

 

Mingyu doesn’t answer, but he looks like he’s thinking; Seungkwan can usually tell when the gears are turning in his head. Mingyu is one of the smartest people he knows. He’ll definitely graduate as valedictorian of their class. But now, maybe the answers aren’t as simple as schoolwork, because he stays silent for a while. Seungkwan holds his head in his hands, wishing he hadn’t said anything at all.

 

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu murmurs. “I can’t see anything like that ever happening, Seungkwan.”

 

The sound of him saying his name makes Seungkwan flinch. His spirit falls even further when Mingyu heads back inside, presumably to leave. Seungkwan had driven them here, so he wouldn’t be surprised if Mingyu was finding another way home. It’s three minutes to midnight, he realizes, and then it’s the new year and all the couples are kissing and fireworks are being set off, bright colors illuminating the sky in the exact opposite manner Seungkwan is feeling.

 

This is when everything changes. For the good, for the bad, Seungkwan isn’t sure yet, but he never speaks to Mingyu again. At graduation, he watches him give his speech as the top student he is, but he keeps his head down, wanting to be far, far away from him. Love does crazy things, like break up friendships that were expected to last a lifetime, but it also provides new beginnings. The latter is especially true, because Seungkwan finishes his story and Hansol isn’t giving him a pitiful look like he’d expected.

 

“So, that’s how I fucked up,” Seungkwan concludes. “Any questions, comments, concerns?”

 

“I can see why you got so weird with me, now,” Hansol says, not looking him in the eyes.

 

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m trapped in this endless circle of falling for people who have absolutely no interest in me, so it’s fine. I’ll live with it.”

 

Hansol doesn’t answer, and Seungkwan doesn’t expect him to. He wishes he could be like him. Hansol is an example of what happens when you don’t let anything get to you, and when you find the good in all situations, and when you can be a passively cool optimist with no holding back on doing things that make you happy. He’s carefree and Seungkwan loves it, but at the same time, he hates always being around an optimist. He himself is a realist. Seungkwan sure knows a thing or two about reality biting you in the ass, especially having made too many mistakes with his heart in the first place. He won’t let it happen again.

 

Next thing he knows, Hansol is sitting next to him on the bed, wrapping his arms around him and hugging him tight. He smells like sweat and cheap drugstore deodorant and Seungkwan breathes it in, trying his hardest not to start crying, but he does anyway, because what else is an emotional person supposed to do in a situation like this?

 

He’s making this impossible, Seungkwan thinks.

 

Hansol is impossible to avoid. He’s everything Seungkwan wants to love, but he just can’t bring himself to make that mistake again.

 

 

 

* * *

  
  


 

Soonyoung has to practice a speech for his presentational speaking class and he’s forcing his boyfriend to help him. They’re sitting in Wonwoo’s room, Soonyoung pacing around and Wonwoo relaxing in a ratty old bean bag chair he has. The windows are open; he claims that March has the prettiest weather of all months of the year, which Wonwoo agrees with, so they’re letting the breeze blow through.

 

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” Wonwoo suggests. He’s timing him with the stopwatch on his phone, and Soonyoung has yet to extend it to the length requirement. The only reason he’s frustrated is because Wonwoo took the same class last semester, and because he’s a teaching major, Soonyoung wants to prove he can one-up him as the undecided maverick he is. Typical him, making academics into a competition.

 

He groans. “It’s still not good enough?”

 

“Nope,” Wonwoo gives him a soft smile. Maybe if Soonyoung kept pouting, Wonwoo would take pity on him, and then they could make out for the next hour instead of go over some stupid speech that didn’t even matter in any way.

 

“And,” Wonwoo adds, apparently reading his mind, “don’t think that I’ll go soft on you. This is a large percent of your grade, so you have to do well.”

 

“Whatever,” Soonyoung grumbles.

 

He starts his speech again, but this time, he amps up the dramatics, making the boring subject of the importance of blood donation into a full-fledged production. When Wonwoo is laughing quietly, that’s when he knows he’s doing something right, and he wraps it up with a theatrical bow.

 

Wonwoo stares up at him for a few seconds and then starts clapping slowly, grin wide on his face. “Wow,” he says, “that was actually pretty good.”

 

“Only pretty good?” Soonyoung scoffs, hands on his hips. “I thought it was phenomenal.”

 

“Of course you did.”

 

“Of course you did,” he mocks back, voice raising a few pitches to make fun of him. Soonyoung giggles and throws himself down onto the bean bag chair (but mostly onto Wonwoo). He doesn’t move, even when Wonwoo starts poking his sides, attempting to tickle him.

 

“Get off me, you weirdo,” Wonwoo says, and Soonyoung leans up to kiss his cheek.

 

“I’m not the weirdo, you’re the weirdo.”

 

“Not true.”

 

“Totally true.”

 

“I’m going to tickle you, Soonyoung. Is that really what you want?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

And Wonwoo isn’t lying, because in a matter of seconds, he’s being attacked mercilessly, sides being grabbed and all he can do is cringe, laughing loudly enough to scare off the birds in the tree outside the window. He’s yelling at Wonwoo to stop, promising he’ll move, but Wonwoo laughs right along with him, tickling right under his ribcage and somehow getting at his bare feet, too.

 

Eventually, they’re both on the floor, laying side by side.

 

“You,” Soonyoung wheezes, “are the worst.”

 

“I know,” Wonwoo says, scooting over so that he can stick his head under Soonyoung’s chin, aiming to annoy him more. Soonyoung closes his eyes and smiles as wide as he can, taking his hands and running his fingers through Wonwoo’s hair. Everything about him is so soft, so gentle and not at all unfamiliar. He smells like the same shampoo he’s always used, and he laughs with the same deep sounds he’s always made. 

 

“I could fall asleep like this,” he continues. Soonyoung hums a response.

 

“I know I told you I was sorry for missing our date,” Soonyoung changes the subject effortlessly. “But I want to tell you again. I really am sorry, and you know that, right?”

 

It had been an honest mistake, and although Wonwoo had been a little skeptical, Soonyoung managed to ease his mind the best he could the other night when he finally got done with Seokmin. See, there’s nothing worse than a freshman having an identity crisis, and that’s exactly what had happened. Seokmin had called him in a panic, crying and speaking too fast to be understandable, and Soonyoung had met up with him and helped him pick out classes for the next school year. That was that. He’d lost track of time, as he usually did around Seokmin, and the feeling of guilt upon remembering the date had been unbearable.

 

“I know,” Wonwoo hesitates. “And I want you to know I still love you.”

 

“Don’t worry, I know.”

 

“Good.”

 

So, Soonyoung and Wonwoo stay laying on the floor, staring at the ceiling and at each other occasionally, and the conversations dwindle down into meaningless word vomit, topics changing continuously from school and classes to the meaning of life itself. That’s how it is with them, and Soonyoung has no apprehensions. Wonwoo is familiarity. He’s all the intimacy Soonyoung has ever really known. He’s home, in every sense of the word.

 

Wonwoo is someone he takes solace in. He’s a good confidant, an amazing listener, and an even better friend, in most cases.

 

But every time he says he loves him, Soonyoung can’t help but feel that something is missing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so now we get a gyuboo background that will most definitely be somewhat important :-)


	11. Chapter 11

Seokmin is fairly confident in his decision-making skills, especially considering his success rate. He’s made it nearly two decades without severely injuring himself or anyone around him, so he assumes he’s done something right along the way. That all changes tonight, because somehow, Soonyoung convinces him to come to a party with him, Wonwoo, and Mingyu. He doesn’t have a bad feeling about it, but when they get to the frat house in question, the sheer amount of people and the fresh smell of alcohol in the air taxes his mind only slightly. Spring break starts next week. Midterms start in a few days. Yet, here he is, a fish out of water trying to keep up with his friends who somehow have learned how to swim in cheap beer and shot glasses filled with Fireball.

 

“Last one to the beer pong table is a rotten egg!” Mingyu exclaims chidingly, nudging Seokmin’s shoulder before he disappears into the crowd of people standing out on the front lawn.

 

Wonwoo shakes his head as Soonyoung follows him. He skips around like a child, which is quite unfitting, but Seokmin knows how much he loves to drink. Wonwoo, on the other hand, guides Seokmin inside with him. “Don’t worry,” he says, “stick with me, and you won’t be losing as many brain cells, unlike my idiot of a boyfriend.”

 

This is one case in which Seokmin has to agree with him.

 

Him and Wonwoo end up in the kitchen; someone hands him a cup filled with vodka and Sprite, and Seokmin takes a hesitant sip, realizing that whoever poured it had been extremely modest with the Sprite and not so much with the vodka. It stings the back of his throat and Wonwoo laughs when he watches him wince. He takes a drink from his own cup and doesn’t even flinch. Seokmin wonders if dating Soonyoung meant developing as large of a tolerance to various alcoholic drinks as he had.

 

“Should we go watch them play?” Wonwoo nearly yells, because the sound of the bass from the music is shaking the floor, making almost everything else inaudible.

 

“Sure.”

 

The beer pong table is set up outside, and it’s where a decent crowd of partygoers gather, so Wonwoo and Seokmin stay elevated on the porch stairs, able to garner a better view of the game. 

 

“Soonyoung is basically the beer pong master,” Wonwoo comments.

 

“Seriously?”

 

Seokmin can’t tell if it’s with pride or not, but either way, Wonwoo nods. “Yeah,” he replies casually. “His roommate taught him last year, when the two of them were typical freshmen ass-kissers.”

 

As he drinks, Seokmin chokes back a laugh. That sounds so characteristic of both Soonyoung and Jun, even though he’s only really interacted with the latter a few times in passing. Wonwoo motions with one hand as the game starts, Soonyoung on one end of the table and Mingyu on the other side. It’s funny to see them play against each other; Mingyu looks right at home amongst the crowd, and Soonyoung has a large backing as well.

 

Soonyoung goes first, sinking the ping pong ball into one of the cups on Mingyu’s side, and Mingyu throws his arms up laughing before he takes the cup away and chugs its contents. Seokmin’s stomach hurts just watching him.

 

A few minutes pass. “I’m surprised Soonyoung hasn’t won by now,” Wonwoo says. “I’m more surprised by how well Mingyu is doing against him.”

 

“Mingyu looks like he’s about to fall down,” laughs Seokmin. The taller of the two is standing wobbly, but his smile doesn’t give that away. He eyes Soonyoung across the table and throws his ball. It lands perfectly in the second-to-last cup left, and Soonyoung’s jaw goes slack in surprise. Mingyu almost has him beat.

 

“I’ve never seen this happen before,” muses Wonwoo, sipping from his cup and emptying the contents. “Want a refill?” he asks, and Seokmin shakes his head. Wonwoo shrugs and heads inside, leaving Seokmin to watch the ending of the game unfold.

 

Soonyoung’s next ball misses Mingyu’s last cup, and then Mingyu comes right back and lands two in a row. Soonyoung is scowling from what Seokmin can see, but he heartily downs the contents of his two cups as well as Mingyu’s remaining one, and then the two of them hug as the crowd of people applaud and laugh. It’s sort of ridiculous, seeing the two of them waltz around drunk as can be.

 

Wonwoo comes up behind him and raises an eyebrow. “So, who won? I missed it.”

 

“Not the beer pong master, that’s for sure,” Seokmin says cheekily. “You had me all excited to watch Soonyoung whoop Mingyu’s ass, just for Mingyu to come out of nowhere and dethrone him.”

 

“Jesus,” Wonwoo says, drinking his now full cup. “I’ll have to give him hell for that.”

 

Seokmin isn’t really sure what that means, but Wonwoo leaves the porch, nearly bounding down the stairs to where Soonyoung has now stationed himself, trying to climb on top of the rickety mailbox in front. When Soonyoung does stupid things, Seokmin sees how Wonwoo is perfect for him. He’s always there to stop him. Seokmin, on the other hand, would gladly climb all the mailboxes in the world with Soonyoung if it meant having a good time. He shouldn’t be feeling like this. Whatever he just finished drinking is making his thoughts whir past in overdrive.

 

Just having a stupid, little crush on someone who has a boyfriend is bad enough, but with alcohol in his system, Seokmin is finding it hard to resist doing something about it. No, he thinks. Wonwoo is his friend. Wonwoo is a perfectly good guy who yelled at him for cursing at Dickinson. Wonwoo has an even more perfect boyfriend. Seokmin cradles his head in his hands as he sits there on the porch stairs. He’s being unreasonable in thinking Soonyoung would ever give someone like Wonwoo up for him.

 

Someone comes and sits next to him. Seokmin can tell that it’s Mingyu without even looking. “What’s got you down?” he questions, hitting their knees together. “I expected you to be the life of the party.”

 

“Well, I would be, if I were as drunk as you,” he shoots back. Mingyu smiles lazily.

 

“I’m not even that drunk.”

 

“You’re lying.”

 

“Wanna bet?”

 

“Yeah,” Seokmin says, realizing that Mingyu is uncomfortably close to his face. He sure smells like beer, but then again, the whole place does. Mingyu’s eyes widen briefly, trailing down from Seokmin’s gaze to his lips, and then back up.

 

“You’re too cute to look so sad,” Mingyu says finally, pouting and batting his eyes. Before Seokmin knows what’s happening, Mingyu presses his lips to his cheek and kisses him, loud and dramatic, and then he scoots over as if nothing happened.

 

Seokmin just stares at him, not at all comprehending the meaning behind Mingyu’s antics, before he hears shouting and footsteps pounding up to the foot of the stairs. Soonyoung is out of breath and he looks distraught, eyes shifting between Seokmin and Mingyu, who has now started talking to himself about all the math homework he has yet to finish.

 

“Hey, lover boy,” he snaps, grabbing Mingyu’s arm and pulling him up, making him stumble down onto the ground. “You...you don’t kiss people who don’t like you.”

 

“What?” Mingyu gasps, and Seokmin is horrified, but when he stands up suddenly, his vision turns a little hazy and he grasps the railing for balance.

 

“You heard me! Get away from Seokmin. He’s not into you or your glorious six-pack abs.”

 

Wonwoo appears out of nowhere and pulls them apart. Seokmin heaves a sigh of relief, unable to do anything about it because of his newfound discovery that he is, in fact, a humongous lightweight. “Soonyoung, what the hell are you doing?” he fumes.

 

“Up shut your ass, motherbitch!” blurts Soonyoung, tripping over his own feet and his insults apparently, as he clamors on into a string of curse words that make no sense together. “Mingyu is trying to make moves on Seokmin. I saw it with my own three eyes.”

 

“You don’t have three eyes,” Mingyu stammers, rubbing the spot on his arm where Soonyoung had dug his nails into the skin. “I was trying to comfort him.”

 

“He doesn’t need your comfort,” Soonyoung spits. Seokmin has never seen him look this angry, and he can’t tell if it’s truly because of him or not. On one hand, the thought of Soonyoung fighting his fights for him is amazing, but he doesn’t want him to be this worked up over Mingyu’s drunken act of kindness. They’re all friends. Soonyoung obviously isn’t thinking clearly. 

 

Wonwoo is now standing to the side, holding tight to Soonyoung’s hand in case he decides to lunge for Mingyu again. “Soonyoung,” he hisses, “you’re causing a scene for no reason.”

 

“I have my reasons,” he says. “I have good reasons. Very spectacular and justified reasons. Seokmin doesn’t like Mingyu. That’s the best reason.”

 

He smiles devilishly as if he’s just revealed the secrets to the universe, but Seokmin wishes that, for once, he’d just stop talking. Wonwoo shoots him a look, one that seems to suggest Seokmin provoked something, but all he can do is shrug. He’s glad the other hundred or so people milling around don’t seem to find anything strange about this whole situation.

 

“Soonyoung,” Seokmin says, and his eyes snap to him instantly, wide and curious. He tries to figure out what it is he wants to say, but Soonyoung’s expectancy makes him lose his train of thought. How can someone’s eyes sparkle that bright at a frat party in the middle of the night?

 

“It wasn’t anything serious,” he continues sheepishly. Mingyu nods in earnest. “He just thought I looked sad, so he tried to cheer me up.”

 

“Well, why are you sad? Did someone call you ugly? Who was it? I’ll go and fight them for you,” Soonyoung slurs, looking a little too eager. Wonwoo eyes him and punches his shoulder. Seokmin just shakes his head.

 

“No, no one called me ugly, you dumbass.”

 

“Okay good, because you’re totally not ugly. I’d bang you in a heartbeat.”

 

And although that comment is supposed to ease his mind, it makes Seokmin wish he was anywhere but there, amidst their tiny, dysfunctional friend group. The events of the night carry on, and somehow, Seokmin wakes up in his dorm in the morning, little to no knowledge of how he got there. All he remembers is Soonyoung’s eyes and Soonyoung’s drunken threats and Soonyoung’s stupid voice telling him even stupider compliments.

 

Having a crush on Soonyoung is the most nonsensical,  _ stupid _ thing about Seokmin’s life. Of all the people on campus, why does Soonyoung have to be the one that’s most endearing? His head is pounding and he curses himself for feeling so bad after only having one or two drinks. How anyone managed to down cup after cup of that stuff is beyond Seokmin, but he gets out of bed begrudgingly and manages to swallow some Advil.

 

He checks his phone. Wonwoo has texted him a few times, the time stamps from three in the morning, which is when Seokmin guesses they’d gotten back.

 

Chills start inching their way into his chest as he reads the slew of messages, quickly at first, and then slowly, over and over again.

 

‘Soonyoung tried to break up with me while he was drunk.’

‘Seokmin, he told me he doesn’t love me as much as I love him.’

‘He told me he wanted to break up before he passed out in his room.’

‘And he told me he likes you.’

 

Seokmin locks his phone and gets back into bed, pressing his face as far as it’ll go into his pillow, and he breathes out slowly, opting to go back to sleep because he definitely does not need this right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the endeavors of drunk people never fail to surprise me.  
> so, the truth comes out. but there's more where that came from, folks.


	12. Chapter 12

For once, the spring weather is agreeable enough to make Hansol consider doing what he’s been wanting to do for a while now, basically since the first day of classes: ask Seungkwan out on a date.

 

Surely, anyone would think he’d have gotten his fill of Seungkwan for the year. They hang out basically every single day and night, nearly inseparable except to go to classes they don’t share. Hansol is the opposite of sick of him. No matter how long he spends around his boisterous, excitable, fairly overdramatic best friend, one thing remains the same, and it’s Hansol’s desire to spend even more time with him.

 

Seungkwan, on the other hand, has no idea. Well, Hansol supposes he  _ might _ have an idea, but then again, he’s bad at feelings and doesn’t expect Seungkwan to pick up on the nearly indistinguishable hints he thinks he’s dropping.

 

It’s a Sunday, which means midterms week starts tomorrow, which means spring break is only one short walk through hell away. This time next week, Hansol will be back home, apart from his best friend but finally back to his family and much better quality of living, including his bed and the food his parents make. It’s a win-lose situation, which is why Hansol decides that now is his time to shine. Operation win Seungkwan over is a go.

 

“Hey,” Hansol says into his cell phone. “What are you doing today?”

 

“The usual,” Seungkwan says back. It’s nine in the morning, meaning he’s probably fresh out of sleep, and that must be why Hansol finds his voice so attractive right now. “Hanging out with you, getting some last minute studying done, and going to bed at a totally unreasonable hour. You?”

 

He doesn’t answer the question. “Cancel all those plans except for the ones that involve me. Can you meet me by the tree outside the dorm in, like, an hour? You know the one.”

 

It’s where they’ve always converged. There’s an ancient oak tree a little ways outside the front entrance of the dorm building, and legend says it’s been struck by lightning every first day of finals in the summer since the school had been founded. Seungkwan thinks it’s a load of bull, but Hansol likes the magic of it, finding it funny that some divine force kept sending the same bad omen.

 

“Uh, okay,” Seungkwan starts. “Do I have to dress a certain way? Comb my hair differently? Bring anything?”

 

“Be yourself,” Hansol says, answering all of his questions with one statement.

 

“If you say so.”

 

Hansol ends the call and jumps to his feet, feeling like someone completely different. It isn’t every day that he asks someone he likes out on a date. He knows exactly what he needs. The mini mart has food and he’s pretty sure he’s seen a kite or a frisbee and other such things in there as well, so all the ingredients for the perfect first date are there. A picnic with Seungkwan is the cheesiest, cutest, and most borderline disgusting thing Hansol has conjured up, but it’s perfect. It’s foolproof. It’s  _ them. _

 

The mini mart is, as it is most times he goes, empty. Hansol recognizes the clerk this time.

 

“Hi, Soonyoung,” he greets upon entering, and the boy at the counter just lifts a hand, face devoid of any sign of recollection. Hansol frowns. Odd. The first time they’d met, Soonyoung had been bubbly as all get out.

 

He picks up the things he needs: two pre-made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, two bottles of Coke, some pre-cut watermelon, and a Twix bar for Seungkwan. Searching the aisles, he also finds the kite he’d seen before. It’s shaped like a butterfly, and Hansol almost wishes that there were manlier options, but butterflies are perfectly appropriate on such a beautiful day. On his way to check out, it occurs to him that he’ll also need a blanket of some sort, so he picks out a bright yellow beach towel, which is the closest he’ll get to one.

 

When Hansol sets his things on the counter, Soonyoung scans each item monotonously, robotic in nature, and he can’t help but prod. “Hey,” Hansol asks, “are you good? You look a little dead.”

 

Soonyoung meets his eyes and manages a small smile. Jeesh, Hansol thinks, he looks like he hasn’t slept at all in the past two days. Dark circles beneath his eyes make his face droop, and the way he’s doing his job is anything but peppy and enthused like he had been the first time Hansol had set foot in here.

 

“Yeah,” he answers. “I’m good, just got a lot on my mind is all. Will this be it for you?”

 

Hansol nods and hands over his ID for Soonyoung to swipe.

 

“I know we’re not really friends, but if anything’s wrong, I just want you to know it’ll come to pass, dude,” Hansol says awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You look super tired. Maybe try getting some sleep?”

 

“Hah,” Soonyoung laughs dryly. Hansol regrets saying something. “Fat chance, bud. You don’t know the half of it.” And he’s right, Hansol thinks, taking his bags with the picnic stuff and heading out the door. He doesn’t know Soonyoung, but if he did, he’d want him to know he’s thinking of him. Personally, he knows what it’s like to be kept awake at night by things that seem to matter more in the moment but turn out to be extremely trivial. Maybe that’s Soonyoung’s dilemma.

 

Seungkwan is standing beneath the lightning tree when Hansol approaches. He looks nervous, but at the same time, Hansol smiles, because he’s wearing a light green windbreaker and jeans and it may be the most simple of outfits, but Seungkwan looks like spring itself. 

 

“What’s in the bags?” he asks Hansol when he’s close enough to hear. He sounds accusatory, which makes Hansol laugh.

 

“You’ll see. C’mon.”

 

Hansol starts walking past the tree and Seungkwan follows with the occasional outburst into random conversations that have nothing to do with each other. There’s a spot on one of the quads by the lake that Hansol has already picked out in his head, one with the right amount of openness and the right amount of intimacy. The wind blows slightly, and Hansol thinks of the kite, knowing he’s made at least one good decision today.

 

“Why are we all the way out here?” Seungkwan whines.

 

“I’ve taken the initiative to bring you on a very classy picnic date,” Hansol muses, setting the bags down in the grass. He pulls out the beach towel and spreads it out on the ground, taking all the food out to set in a semi-organized pile in the center. Hansol sits down on one end of the towel and motions for Seungkwan to sit across from him. He’s biting back a grin.

 

“A date?” he echoes. “This is a date?”

 

Hansol is afraid he’s said something wrong. “Well, yeah, in my mind it is, but it can be whatever you want it to be. An outing, a special edition of our usual hanging out, whatever.”

 

Seungkwan smirks, looking down at all the food. Hansol wants him to say he’s glad that it’s a date, that he’s happy Hansol is treating him like this, that he’s wooed and all that sappy stuff, but he doesn’t.

 

“Let’s eat,” he says instead, grabbing a sandwich. “I haven’t had anything since last night and I’m absolutely starving.”

 

Hansol just nods. “Of course.”

 

They eat in comfortable silence, Seungkwan only breaking in to say how good the sandwich is, or how juicy the watermelon is, or how happy he is that Hansol has remembered how his favorite candy is Twix. Of course Hansol remembers. How could he forget? When Seungkwan notices the kite, it seems as though he ages backwards, eyes lighting up like a child’s, and in turn, Hansol gets all the more excited.

 

Flying it, though, is what makes being here worth it.

 

Seungkwan insists on taking the handle first, and Hansol doesn’t object. He does help him unravel the string initially, and then takes the body of the kite out a little ways away so that it can catch the wind and start flying. He waits until a big gust comes around and starts running, holding the butterfly frame above his head, and he smiles as he hears Seungkwan laughing at him. The wind takes the kite up and Hansol lets it go, watching behind him as Seungkwan gives it some slack. It shoots up; Hansol sees it do a few loops before it starts sailing steady in the sky high above them.

 

“You’re a pro at this,” Hansol observes, coming back up to Seungkwan.

 

“I used to love doing this when I was little. My sisters and I would climb hills and fly kites all day until dinner time,” he replies, longing in his voice. “Doing it again after so many years is just peaceful, you know?”

 

“Yeah. I know.”

 

It’s as if a sense of tranquility completely overtakes Hansol in that moment, when his eyes are on Seungkwan and Seungkwan’s are on the kite, reflection of the sky brightening his face in every facet. Although Hansol is a romantic, he can sense that there isn’t anything about this moment that makes his heart leap or his ears redden. It’s just fresh and exciting, because spring has started and Seungkwan is really good at flying kites and he never asks Hansol if he wants to hold the handle, and yet, Hansol doesn’t mind. All he cares about is Seungkwan’s happiness, and if that means letting him hog the kite, then so be it.

 

The wind blows and messes up Seungkwan’s hair. Hansol nearly reaches over to fix it, but stops himself, thinking that it looks good regardless.

 

Is this love? Maybe. Hansol is not well-versed on the matter, but he’s certain that it’s something. 

 

Something he doesn’t want to lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here, have some fluff to take your minds off the angsty whirlpool going on elsewhere.


	13. Chapter 13

The first thing Soonyoung does when Wonwoo tells him what he said when he was drunk? He spits out his sip of water that he’d almost swallowed with the three Advil in his mouth. The pills and the water fall into the sink in his room and he watches them swirl down the drain, faucet still running incessantly. 

 

He suddenly has the urge to fling the door open and run, but Wonwoo is waiting for his response. Soonyoung has lost all will to talk, and quite frankly, he’s lost all will to drink ever again. Drunk him is never that responsible, and apparently drunk him of last night had let his inhibitions flow a little too freely.

 

“Wonwoo,” he says quietly, turning to face him. He’s sitting on Soonyoung’s bed looking more somber than usual, and he can’t tell if he’s angry or not. Wonwoo has never been one to lose his temper, but Soonyoung wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to right now. “You know I didn’t mean any of that. You know I say stupid things.”

 

“I do know,” Wonwoo nearly whispers, eyes boring a hole into the floor. He doesn’t even look up to talk to him. “But how can I trust that it isn’t what you really feel?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“About Seokmin,” he says, and the blood in Soonyoung’s veins freezes, the cold creeping through his heart and sinking down to the pit of his stomach. Seokmin is nothing but a best friend at this point, Soonyoung thinks. Sure, he’s thought about him in other ways, but then Wonwoo peeks into his thoughts and the guilt sets in, which is why Soonyoung can’t manage to formulate a response.

 

“You said you’d liked him since the first time you met him,” Wonwoo concludes. His voice is lacking the poison Soonyoung would’ve expected. “Is that true?”

 

“As a person, sure,” Soonyoung says flatly. “He’s nothing more to me than my best friend, Wonwoo. You  _ know _ that.”

 

“Do I?” he asks, voice raising, and he finally meets Soonyoung’s eyes. He isn’t crying, which is a good sign, but Soonyoung still feels accused. He feels like Wonwoo has all the secrets to the universe in a box that he hoards for himself, because everything he says could make sense if Soonyoung twisted it in just the right way. But he defends his position. Soonyoung is dating him. Soonyoung is supposed to love him. He’s not supposed to fall in love with anyone besides who he’s _ supposed _ to be with. 

 

“Soonyoung,” Wonwoo goes on, shaking his head. “I won’t be mad at you, God, I could never be mad at you. But I deserve the truth, and if the truth is that you really feel incapable of loving someone like me, then I want to know. You can give me that much, at least.”

 

“Don’t say that,” Soonyoung holds up a finger. “Don’t you dare say that I can’t love someone like you.”

 

“Then tell me  _ why!  _ Tell me why you never say it back. The entire year and however many months we’ve been together, I’ve given you all the love I’m capable of. I never miss a chance to let you know. And what do you give me in return? Answer that, Soonyoung. Tell me why I’m still with someone who doesn’t have the capacity to love me back.”

 

The air in the room has been filled with lead. Every breath Soonyoung takes is heavy and his lungs can’t handle it. Wonwoo doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t shy away from staring at him, and somehow, Soonyoung is ensnared, unable to come up with an answer for him. The truth is, he’s not sure if there is one. His entire life, he always found the word love to mean a lot of different things, but he’s never been able to relate it to his own being. What Wonwoo wants from him and what Soonyoung can give him are two separate planes of existence.

 

“It’s...it’s really not you,” he says quietly. “It’d be easier to explain if it was. But it’s not. So please don’t say it’s because of who you are, because you’re so much more than one thing, Wonwoo. You’re much larger than that, and that’s why I’m afraid of pinning it down.”

 

“So, you really don’t love me?” Wonwoo proposes, and Soonyoung notes the finality of it, as if he can’t expend any more thought into the situation. “All this time? You’ve never loved me?”

 

Soonyoung shakes his head. “I wish I could say no. I wish it could be that easy,” he says, growing more and more frustrated. “But would it have been different had you done more? Probably not. Nothing you can do will change how I feel.” Wonwoo is crying now, silently and painfully. “But please,” he adds, “know that it isn’t your fault.”

 

“That’s so typical,” Wonwoo snaps. “Oh, it’s not you, Wonwoo,” he mocks weakly, “it’s all me. It’s all my fault for not being able to love a perfectly good boyfriend who’s done nothing bad to me. Don’t you hear what you sound like?”

 

“No,” Soonyoung bites back angrily. He hopes the people in the rooms on either side of his don’t come knocking. “You don’t get it.”

 

“What don’t I get?”

 

Soonyoung throws his hands up in the air. “I want to love you, Wonwoo. I really do. Do you know how many nights you’ve fallen asleep, me right next to you, when I’ve done nothing but look at you for hours and wish and hope and pray that  _ something _ inside me would click?” 

 

Wonwoo shakes his head, tears falling steadily now, but expression unchanged. 

 

“Don’t you see?” Soonyoung mumbles. “I wish it could be as simple for me as it was for you. But sometimes, people just aren’t meant to be together like that. Love never came that easy for me.”

 

They stay quiet for quite a while. Soonyoung lowers himself to the floor and he sits cross legged on the carpet. Jun is, luckily, nowhere to be found, and Soonyoung assumes he must’ve passed out at whatever party he’d chosen to go to last night. His mind flashes back to the one freshman year, the one he’d met Wonwoo at, and he remembers the way they’d first kissed on that stranger’s couch. If only it had been that simple. It had been his first kiss ever, and although the situation hadn’t been ideal or romantic in any way, he’d still expected to feel sparks fly and hear angels sing. That isn’t Soonyoung’s reality, though. The truth is that Wonwoo is not his, and he isn’t Wonwoo’s, and maybe that’d be the case for everyone Soonyoung chose to date.

 

He’s gotten very good at putting up fronts. All throughout freshman year, Soonyoung had reinvented himself to be exactly the opposite of how he was in high school. Instead of the anxious, scared, self-conscious mess he’d been in the past, he’d elected to fake the coolness, the confidence, and everything else that came with it. Maybe that’s his problem. Wonwoo may have fallen in love with the person Soonyoung told himself he was, but in retrospect, he figures that, had Wonwoo known him before his giant personality overhaul, Soonyoung would have remained single.

 

“I’m sorry,” Soonyoung says out of the blue. 

 

“Don’t be,” Wonwoo answers, just as softly. “You can’t help that,” he goes on, “and I’m stupid if I think I can change it.”

 

“You’re not stupid.”

 

“I was stupid enough to believe that a freshman year relationship could go on to be a wedding ring and a happy ending.”

 

Soonyoung wants to laugh at this, but waits until he sees that Wonwoo is giving him a smile until he does. “You’re taking this much easier than I thought you would,” he notices. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, I guess. But that doesn’t mean I don’t like you.”

 

“I figured as much,” Wonwoo hesitates. “There’s a fine line between liking and loving, though, and I guess I never really paid much attention to if you crossed it or not.”

 

Soonyoung shakes his head. He’s glad he’s having this discussion with Wonwoo, because he knows him, and he  _ also _ knows that Wonwoo actually thinks about the things he says, unlike him. “And this has nothing to do with Seokmin, by the way,” he mentions. At the sound of Seokmin’s name, Wonwoo blinks, eyes glassy.

 

“You’re sure about that?”

 

“Wonwoo, what kind of man would I be if I had been planning to cheat or something? That wasn’t my intention at all,” he defends. “I don’t like him as anything more than a friend, and that’s the truth at this point in time.”

 

“But, last night you said —”

 

Soonyoung exhales through his nose loudly. “I know what I said. It isn’t true.”

 

The thing about Wonwoo is that he never fails at persevering until he has exactly what he wants. He stares through Soonyoung’s eyes and into his brain. They sit there for a good five minutes, Soonyoung’s gaze trained on Wonwoo’s face and vice versa. He sees the sadness, and he knows he should feel guilty, but all he’s conscious of is an overwhelming sense of relief. The truth is out there now, and that’s all he has. It’s as if some big secret has finally been told.

 

“I don’t believe you, but surprisingly, I’m not mad,” Wonwoo breaks the silence finally, but Soonyoung is just as confused.

 

“Why don’t you believe me?”

 

“I’ve been wary of Seokmin since I met the kid,” he sighs. “He was cursing at a book of poetry, for crying out loud. That night that we were all in the library together, you looked at him and said you got a good feeling about him, and that’s when it started, I guess. I’ve just been drawing it out.”

 

Soonyoung finds himself nodding. “I remember that.”

 

“On some level, I chose to ignore it, because you’ve never liked being pinned down. On the other hand, it drove me crazy, like the day you forgot about our date. I saw you two together and something just dropped inside me, but I couldn’t quite tell what it was.”

 

“But I don’t love him,” Soonyoung interrupts. “He’s my best friend, sure, but I… I’m not ready to love anyone, really. Maybe I’ll feel it eventually, or maybe not, but that’s just how it is right now.” He shrugs. Wonwoo raises an eyebrow.

 

“You know, all I care about is that you’re happy, right?”

 

“I feel the same way,” Soonyoung agrees.

 

“If that’s the case,” Wonwoo goes on, “then I want you to know that you can date whoever you want and as long as you’re happy, I’ll be happy for you.”

 

“I don’t want —”

 

“But please,” Wonwoo talks over him, holding out both hands as he emphasizes his words, “never date Mingyu. That’s the exception. Spare him from your antics. You’re already a mediocre role model as it is.”

 

Soonyoung snorts. “That is so not true. I’m top of our class.”

 

“Sure. For now.”

 

So, that’s how they come to an end, with Soonyoung on the floor and Wonwoo on the bed. Soonyoung doesn’t doubt that they’ll have any problem remaining friends, as he doesn’t ever want to lose him, and Wonwoo accepts this as well. He leaves Soonyoung’s room, but not without kissing him on the cheek first. Soonyoung sits on the floor for hours, fingers occasionally grazing his own face, until Jun returns, looking haggard and just as hungover as he himself had felt.

 

Soonyoung doesn’t look at his phone all day, but when he does, it’s because he’d just tucked himself into bed after shoveling some microwave mac and cheese into his mouth for a makeshift dinner.

 

One text from Wonwoo. ‘Goodnight, Soonyoung. I really, really like you.’

 

For once, Soonyoung is glad to think of the word love when framing it through Wonwoo, because it was true that he’d done nothing but good things for him. Wonwoo is stability, comfort, and everything in between. In another life, he may have loved him easily and without hesitation, but in this one, Wonwoo is more of a rock, there to stop him from falling down or from straying too far off course. He’s glad Wonwoo takes the breakup so well, because Soonyoung had felt like falling apart a few times. Losing the one staple in a daily routine is difficult, he thinks, and since Wonwoo had been his first everything, looking forward to the seconds and the thirds and so on wasn’t a task that he could take lightly.

 

He does love Wonwoo, but in ways that aren’t quite love.

 

Love is far from Soonyoung’s mind when he finally falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe this'll make you as sad when reading as it made me when writing.


	14. Chapter 14

“It’s called lethobenthos,” Jun mentions casually one day. Soonyoung sits across from him at a corner table in the library, books and spiral notebooks spread open on its surface. He twiddles a pen in his fingers. 

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“That look on your face. Your dark circles are giving  _ me _ dark circles.”

 

“Good to know, but that doesn’t explain the big word you just used.”

 

Jun sips slowly from his iced latte. Soonyoung knows him to the point of knowing exactly what he orders from Starbucks every time he goes, and that means he’s invested. Soonyoung assumes he looks tired like Jun says, but then again, he hasn’t bothered to look in the mirror that closely. Wonwoo is somewhere downstairs, working the counter as usual. He wonders if he feels the same void that Soonyoung does.

 

“Lethobenthos,” Jun repeats. “It’s not technically a psychology thing, but we talked about words for things we feel. Emotions that are hard to describe with one word, if you will.”

 

“Go on, Mr. Psychology, get inside my head,” Soonyoung shoots back. He usually has no idea what Jun is talking about half the time anyway. Psychology is a field that’s quite interesting to Soonyoung, but then again, Jun talks about it and it clouds his brain with concepts he could never expect to grasp.

 

Jun sighs. “So, basically, it’s the habit of not remembering how important someone is to you until you see them again. Like, your mind jolts into a new episode of your life and you wish you could rewatch the old ones, just to know the reason behind the importance.”

 

“I don’t get it,” Soonyoung answers blankly.

 

“What I’m saying, and don’t take this the wrong way, is that you need to see Seokmin soon, or else I think you might drive yourself insane.”

 

“Once again, still not getting it.”

 

Jun drinks the last bit of his latte obnoxiously on purpose, prompting a few angry glares from some of the other inhabitants of the library. “Soonyoung,” he draws out, “you’ve been obsessing over your breakup for days. You barely eat, you barely sleep, and I’m tired of dealing with you pacing around the room until the wee hours of the morning.”

 

“I can’t help it,” Soonyoung replies. He rests his head sullenly on his crossed arms and looks up at Jun with a pout. “Everything just feels weird and I feel so guilty. It’s like I have no direction in my life anymore.”

 

“That isn’t true,” he shoots back. “You told Wonwoo the truth. Isn’t that a good thing?”

 

“Sure, I guess. But it doesn’t feel right.”

 

“It’s only because you were dating him at an integral transition period in your life. You had him to lean on all throughout freshman year, and now that he’s not here to be your support, you feel like you have no one,” Jun finishes, looking satisfied.

 

Soonyoung knows it’s true, and he knows better than to trust his own judgement over Jun’s, since he usually has all the right answers to all the most profound and miniscule questions that weigh him down. As often as Jun is a bad roommate, he’s an equally amazing friend, with intuition to spare. He gives him a signature ‘I know it sucks now, but wait a week’ look. Soonyoung, unfortunately, knows what it really means. It means Jun is tired of taking his shit and wants him to grow up, which is something Soonyoung finds harder and harder to do.

 

“Okay,” he says finally, nodding. “I see your point, but I don’t get how Seokmin has anything to do with me being a downer.”

 

“Like I said. Lethobenthos. You won’t know how important he is to you until you see him again, and I think it’ll help you get out of whatever funk you’re in right now.”

 

“How do you know he’s good for me?” Soonyoung questions weakly. It’d been a while since him and Seokmin had been alone together, but he doesn’t doubt that being around him could considerably alter his mood.

 

“Please,” Jun scoffs. “I see the way he smiles at you. You’d think the sun shines out of his ass whenever you’re around each other.”

 

At this, Soonyoung is fairly certain his ears turn all sorts of shades of red.

 

“And besides,” he goes on, “you know damn well that you two are like peas in a pod. If there’s anyone on this campus who’s more complementary to your personality than he is, I’d like to meet them and congratulate them on messing with fate.”

 

“Fate?”

 

“Fate,” Jun repeats. “There are a lot of things I believe, Soonyoung, and one of them is that fate is a huge defining force in the universe.”

 

Soonyoung holds in a laugh. “You sound like my weird philosophy professor. He never wears shoes and claims that the voices of the Earth channel through him to tell him the answers to life itself.”

 

“Okay,” Jun shakes his head, “I’m not that weird. I just think you should text Seokmin or something. Maybe hang out later today, if you feel up to it.”

 

“If you say so. I just feel so guilty that —”

 

Jun stops him. “No more guilt,” he says. “What’s done is done, and you can’t feel guilty for being yourself. Love is love, dude, and that’s something you have to define for yourself, not what your preconceived notions about it tell you to believe. If everyone went around settling, then love itself wouldn’t exist.”

 

“Okay, now you _ really _ sound like my weird philosophy professor.”

 

They laugh together, trying to hold down their volume. Jun leaves after a while. He packs all his psychology books into his bag and deserts Soonyoung with a charming smile and a disgusting wink, two things he always tended to do just to piss Soonyoung off. Jun is always right. His good decision-making skills may be lacking, but Soonyoung has known him for a while, and he’s most certain that Jun is always thinking of his wellbeing. He has to respect that.

 

So, he does what any sane person going through a breakup does. He texts his best friend.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Seokmin wears the same exact crew neck sweatshirt every day, the one with the university’s name in big letters on the front, and he figures he should wash it soon, just in case it started to smell or something.

 

He’s considering doing laundry when he gets a text from Soonyoung. It’s the first time he’s hearing from him since that stupid party, and part of him wants to delete his phone number, delete the texts, and delete their entire friendship, but Seokmin knows that’s not responsible in the slightest. All he can think of when he thinks of Soonyoung is what Wonwoo told him, and quite frankly, Seokmin doesn’t want to come in between them. A lovers’ quarrel is no place for a guy like him to be.

 

However, Soonyoung does concern him. He wants to know if he’s okay, and it’s been a while since they’ve seen each other, which makes said concern grow rapidly day-by-day. Seokmin checks his phone nervously.

 

‘Hey. I’m in the library now. Wanna come see me?’

 

Of course I do, Seokmin thinks. As if on cue, another text comes while he thinks about typing his thoughts out.

 

‘Sorry, that was a dumb question. I know you do. So meet me here in like, ten minutes.’

 

Laundry is going to have to wait. As a quick fix, Seokmin gets the Febreze from the closet and sprays his sweatshirt liberally, and he waves it around to dry before pulling it on and heading out.

 

Seokmin sees Wonwoo at the counter upon walking into the library, and although they don’t really seem to get along as nicely as he does with Soonyoung, he still waves politely, which prompts Wonwoo to furrow his brows at first, but he gives him a soft smile as he walks past to get to the stairs. Soonyoung is always up on the third floor, and now isn’t any different, as Seokmin spots him right away. He sits in the corner at a table alone. Seokmin pulls out the chair across from him and plops down, saying nothing, just taking him in.

 

As nicely as he can put it, Seokmin thinks he looks terrible. The bags under his eyes are larger than normal and his hair is a little wild, bushy and uncombed. He looks at him expectantly, as if Soonyoung should have to make the first move to speak, as Seokmin doesn’t want to start a conversation with the question of whether or not he’s showered at all in the past week.

 

“Hi,” he says nonchalantly.

 

“Hi,” Seokmin replies. “Fancy seeing you here.”

 

“Likewise,” Soonyoung smiles, eyes crinkling upward. “Now, are you gonna be like Jun and tell me that I look like I’ve just crawled out of the sewer?”

 

“No,” he contemplates, putting a finger to his chin. “But I will say that you look exactly like you’re planning to submit an audition tape to be on Man vs. Wild.”

 

“You asshole.” Soonyoung holds in a laugh. “I can appreciate your humor, though. I’ve needed it,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s been like, thirty years since we’ve hung out.”

 

“Two weeks,” Seokmin corrects him. “Did it feel like thirty years? I can’t be that big of a deal, can I?”

 

Soonyoung nods enthusiastically. “Sure you are,” he reassures him. Seokmin raises an eyebrow. “You’re a good friend of mine, if I do say so myself.”

 

“How are you?” Seokmin asks gently, interrupting him before he can go off on a tangent about something that makes him blush. He’s genuinely worried now, especially after seeing how run-down Soonyoung looks. Whatever has happened since the night Wonwoo texted him with all those cryptic messages must not have been very good. Seokmin’s mind goes to the worst, and upon asking, Soonyoung’s face falls into a frown, and he blinks a few times before letting out the most tired sigh Seokmin has ever heard.

 

“Not great,” Soonyoung admits. “I bet you’re wondering why I asked you to meet me here.”

 

“Not so much that,” he says, “just about why you look so beaten up. Is everything okay?”

 

“That’s a very three-dimensional question, Seokmin.”

 

“And you’re a very three-dimensional person who can surely give me a three-dimensional answer. Ease my mind for me, bud.”

 

“Okay,” Soonyoung huffs. “Me and Wonwoo broke up. It started off as not so mutual, we talked about some things, and now I guess you could consider it mutual. Is that a good enough answer for you?” he asks, leaning back in his chair. 

 

Seokmin doesn’t comment, but instead, mills over words in his mind. He wants to say that he’s sorry, or that he knows it’s always tough to get through something like this, but all he can think about is why it got to the point of involving him. If Wonwoo hadn’t texted him, maybe he wouldn’t be feeling so torn, but Seokmin can’t be happy. He can’t be sad, either, because deep down, he knew this moment would come. How, exactly, he isn’t sure, but some part of him is leaping for joy at the thought of Soonyoung being free to do what he wants.

 

“That’s… wow.”

 

“Wow?” Soonyoung echoes.

 

“Sorry, I don’t know what to say,” Seokmin follows up. “I’m not really good at giving advice, but uh, yeah, that sucks.”

 

Soonyoung tilts his head, smirking. “I never asked for advice,” he says. “I just thought I should let you know.”

 

“Wonwoo told me… well, he texted me that night…” Seokmin’s train of thought escapes him, chugging rapidly through all the emotions he thinks he’s feeling. Soonyoung just looks at him blankly.

 

“I figured,” he replies. “What did he say?”

 

Seokmin pulls his phone from his pocket and opens up Wonwoo’s texts. The four messages are there, unanswered, and he holds his phone out for Soonyoung to read from. His eyes scan the screen and he squints in confusion. Halfheartedly, he runs a hand through his hair and Seokmin watches as he thinks of what to say.

 

“I think I’m gonna puke,” Soonyoung says quietly, handing the phone back. “This is, quite literally, the worst feeling ever.”

 

“You said you talked about it, right?” Seokmin asks hurriedly. “Surely it’s okay now?”

 

Soonyoung shakes his head, eyes closed. “I don’t know,” he answers. “I don’t know why I feel so bad about it. I wish I knew why. But I can’t shake this feeling that something is completely and utterly wrong.”

 

“Hey, look at me.”

 

His eyes open slowly. They’re dark and full of whatever pain he’s feeling, and Seokmin feels a tug in his chest. He wants so desperately to be able to help, but there really isn’t any way he can alleviate it. The torment of feeling guilty for something you have no control over is exactly what Seokmin has been going through, knowing very well that he has had the potential to develop feelings for the guy in front of him but not being able to do anything without wrecking his relationship. Now that Wonwoo isn’t in the picture anymore, Soonyoung seems to be crumbling, and Seokmin can’t even live out the dreams he’s conjured up in the past.

 

Seokmin wants to be there for him, but he can't expect to be better for Soonyoung than Wonwoo is. Then again, if the breakup was mutual, something else must be bothering Soonyoung besides the fact that he said those things while he was drunk.

 

“Can you tell me why you broke up?” Seokmin asks, wanting to coax more out of him. 

 

“Why does it matter?” Soonyoung says back, supporting his head with his hands. Seokmin doesn’t look away, as easy as it would be to, because he looks like he wants to tell him.

 

“Because I care about you, Soonyoung, and I hate seeing you beat yourself up. If there’s a way I can help, then I want to help, and it’s not just because you're my best friend. If no one else can be there for you, you can count on me to be, at least.”

 

The library seems to be quieter than usual in the seconds that follow. Seokmin isn’t sure, but normally, there are the sounds of hushed voices and pages turning in books and the occasional cough, especially because it’s springtime and allergies run rampant. The silence is deafening as they gaze at each other, blinking in turns.

 

“I didn’t love him,” he whispers. “I never did. He loved me, and he still might, and it’s killing me.” Seokmin takes his words in, watching his lips as he speaks, making sure he knows that he’s listening.

 

“The worst part is,” Soonyoung adds, “he thinks it’s because of you. I guess some part of me has the potential to feel that way about you, but it’s not true.” He says this and his volume goes up a notch. Seokmin sits back a little further in his seat, now cautious.

 

“What’s not true?”

 

Soonyoung rubs his hands together anxiously. “It isn’t true that I didn’t love him because of you. It  _ is  _ true that you made me realize I was settling for something that couldn’t ever turn into love, no matter how hard I tried.”

 

“I… I don’t understand,” Seokmin says. Does Soonyoung love him? It’s a little too soon for that, obviously considering they only met in seven or so months ago.

 

“Some people aren’t meant to be together, Seokmin.”

 

“Then you shouldn’t feel guilty, Soonyoung. You did what’s best for you in the long run. You can’t expect to stay with someone just because they support you. You have to want to support them back, and even then, it’s more than that.”

 

Soonyoung sighs. “Have you ever been in love?” he asks weakly.

 

Seokmin hesitates. Yes, he thinks. I am right now, as a matter of fact. Love is on the tip of his tongue every time he talks to Soonyoung. Love is in the back of his mind whenever they do things together, like take chicken nuggets from the dining hall, or sit playing Mario Kart for hours on end, elbowing each other and laughing until it hurts. Love is outlawed when it comes to Soonyoung, though, as he can tell that he simply isn’t ready for it.

 

“No,” Seokmin answers shyly. “Have you?”

 

“No,” replies Soonyoung, smile starting to form as he leans in closer, body pressed against the edge of the table. “Not yet.”

 

They spend a few hours in the library, and Seokmin helps Soonyoung with his homework, as he himself hadn’t thought to bring anything to work on. At one point, Seokmin is fairly sure that they’re the only two people in the universe who exist. It hurts to think that he’s fallen so fast, that his heart simply couldn’t handle being just friends with a guy who made him feel this conscious of his own heart beating. It makes no sense that Soonyoung is able to play off of his jokes, or that they’re both two idiots who are still Undecided with a capital U. It shouldn’t be this easy to find someone so well-suited to your own personality, and yet, Seokmin has won the lottery.

 

Not yet, Seokmin thinks. He won’t rush anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah so uh .... a n g s t  
> have i mentioned i love it


	15. Chapter 15

When April rolls around, Seungkwan notices that Hansol drinks a lot more than he ever has in the past. Each weekend, they’re watching movies or playing video games in his room, and Joshua knocks on the door with a bottle of red wine and a corkscrew. Hansol takes it every time, doesn’t even bother to use a glass, and drinks straight from the bottle while Seungkwan watches, albeit very confused.

 

It isn’t that he’s concerned or upset, just that Hansol doesn’t give him any reasoning as to why he enjoys being tipsy when Seungkwan’s around. They started having movie nights every Saturday, when the dorms are quiet due to the huge influx of people going out to party. Seungkwan loves it. He also finds that Hansol is more apt to cuddle after drinking around a quarter of a bottle of wine.

 

Spirited Away is playing on Hansol’s television. Seungkwan owns the entire collection of Ghibli films (the DVD cases are stacked neatly on a shelf in his own room), and since Hansol has seen none of them, it’s a perfect choice. They’re both on the bed, backs up against the wall amidst piles of blankets and pillows. Comfortable is the best word to describe it. The windows in the room are open and the fresh air circulates, leaving Seungkwan feeling wide awake even in the dark, the only light coming from the TV screen and the string lights Hansol uses to decorate his otherwise bland dorm.

 

“This is a good part,” Seungkwan says, elbowing Hansol’s side.

 

“It’s all a good part,” he answers giddily, turning to smile. His cheeks are blushed and Seungkwan hums to himself as the music from the movie fills the room. 

 

“You think so?”

 

“Beautiful animation,” Hansol murmurs, slumping over into Seungkwan’s side. “I can’t focus on all the colors.”

 

Seungkwan lets go of a laugh as quietly as he can so as to not cover up the dialogue. He, too, can’t focus on the colors, let alone on reading the subtitles, because Hansol is very, very close to him and he doesn’t seem to want to move away anytime soon. His head rests clumsily on Seungkwan’s shoulder; Hansol apparently doesn’t mind cuddling, but Seungkwan knows it’s just because he’s had a few sips of wine too many.

 

“Get off me,” he whispers playfully. “I’m trying to watch.”

 

“Why?” Hansol asks, pulling himself closer. His right arm wraps around Seungkwan’s torso, finding its way to the other side of him. “I bet you’ve seen this movie twenty trillion times.”

 

His voice is so soft, and yet, Seungkwan can discern something underneath the mask of teasing. Hansol’s eyes are trained on his face, but he doesn’t look down, instead opting to keep his own glued to the TV screen in a feeble attempt at getting Hansol to go a step further. It’s not right, but Seungkwan knows he can push Hansol’s buttons when he doesn’t give him the attention he wants.

 

Hansol just remains snuggled into Seungkwan’s side, breathing eventually slowing down. His breath smells sweet and tangy like the wine he’d had. Seungkwan is very tempted to brush away the strands of hair that have fallen over his eyes, but then again, he looks too peaceful to disturb. The movie is long since forgotten. The end credits roll through and Seungkwan is too focused on Hansol to notice.

 

Friends cuddle, right? 

 

The room goes quiet except for the whir of the DVD in Seungkwan’s computer that sits hooked up to the television monitor. Hansol’s breathing reminds Seungkwan that he isn’t in some weird dream. His best friend is asleep nearly on top of him. Ever since Hansol had planned that picnic for them, Seungkwan is finding it increasingly difficult to resist him. What he wants to do and what he should do are two separate things, but for the time being, Seungkwan decides to just go with what his heart is telling him.

 

He snakes his arm around Hansol’s back, and he caresses his side while he sleeps, chest rising and falling slowly and steadily. Seungkwan’s heart has probably never felt this light, but he feels content enough to close his eyes as well, taking in what little sound is present around him. 

 

“Seungkwan,” he hears, and he doesn’t know how long it’s been since the DVD had turned off and he’d shut his eyes. “Wake up.”

 

It’s dark, he can see that much. Instead of sitting upright like he had been, Seungkwan is on his side, and Hansol is half underneath him. His head rests right under Hansol’s chin; some faint light is filtering in through the open blinds on the window, which makes Seungkwan want to drift off again. Without thinking, he whines an unintelligible sentence and hugs himself tighter into Hansol’s side, burying his face in the exposed skin of his neck. This is comfortable. He could stay like this for a while.

 

“Seungkwan,” Hansol repeats. “It’s six in the morning.”

 

“Don’t care,” Seungkwan manages to say, voice muffled.

 

“You don’t?”

 

He shakes his head slightly, and Hansol doesn’t say anything. Seungkwan feels his fingers comb through his hair gently, and it soothes him to the point of sighing happily, not knowing exactly how he got into this position but not complaining nevertheless. If he were more awake, Seungkwan would find all sorts of things wrong with this, but all he wants to do is sleep and stay warm with Hansol holding him, the two of them together in a huge, jumbled pile of pillows and various blankets. It’s like sleeping on a cloud, Seungkwan thinks, mind wandering beyond the realm of what he understands.

 

To be honest, Seungkwan does care. He cares that he’s gradually falling for someone who has nothing but good intentions for him, and he cares that he has a problem in keeping to his word. Hansol is, perhaps, the nicest person on the planet, but he’s not supposed to be giving Seungkwan the satisfaction of deciding that. They are nothing but friends, he repeats to himself mentally. They are nothing but friends. Seungkwan breathes in and out. He becomes aware that Hansol is asleep again. Odd, he thinks, he never took Hansol to be a snorer, and yet, he makes little noises with each inhale that Seungkwan finds cute.

 

He’s unable to go back to sleep himself. Not when Hansol looks this angelic.

 

Seungkwan sighs softly, now a bit more awake than he had been. He wonders how long Hansol had been awake while he himself was sleeping, and he finds himself growing shy at the thought of him seeing what he looks like, eyes closed and mouth probably hanging open.

 

Some part of him cares, but the majority of him doesn’t.

 

Friends sleep together like this, right?

 

No, Seungkwan thinks. Maybe they aren’t friends. Maybe they haven’t even been friends from the start, ever since Seungkwan sat by Hansol in a class he wasn’t even supposed to be in. He doesn’t know why, but every instance of them together has no hint of the word friendship written anywhere on a label, neatly sealed and placed around whatever it is that they are. Seungkwan isn’t Hansol’s friend, but he isn’t  _ not _ Hansol’s friend. Seungkwan is just Seungkwan, and he knows that much, and he also knows that maybe things are more complicated than they seem.

 

Impending rejection swims in the back of Seungkwan’s mind. Hansol would never let him down roughly, but being let down easily doesn’t sound too appealing, either. He wonders if he’s been obvious enough. He almost scoffs at himself; of course he has. How much more obvious could one get about having a giant crush on someone? Seungkwan had kissed him, for crying out loud. Surely, Hansol knows. In that case, Seungkwan thinks he should do something about it if he does.

 

Then again, he has been doing something about it, and Seungkwan has been oblivious to it for the longest time, but the realization builds itself up and suddenly, it’s too much to handle. It hits Seungkwan like a ton of bricks, which is enough to make his eyes snap open, and their dryness from sleeping prompts him to carefully rub them so as to not wake Hansol up.

 

Hansol does like him.

 

Hansol had planned that picnic as a date.

 

Hansol asked if he cared about cuddling him because he wanted to make sure it was okay. He knows that Seungkwan wanted boundaries, because he knows about Mingyu, and he knows about the fragility of Seungkwan’s heart, and he _ knows _ that Seungkwan wants to like him back. 

 

Seungkwan thinks that Hansol is probably the coolest person in his life for all of these reasons, because apparently, his comfort had been a priority since day one. And while Hansol snores quietly, Seungkwan ponders the reasons behind his hesitancy and discretion, and he figures that it’s as unreasonable as anything.

 

Maybe, when Hansol wakes up, he can consider the implications of being a little more than friends.

 

  
  


* * *

 

 

 

The library is unusually busy, Wonwoo thinks, shelving books methodically, grabbing them from the little cart he’s been pushing around the adult fiction section. With every cheesy romance novel he puts back in its place, his mind wanders to Soonyoung, but he finds himself shaking his head back and forth, disappointed in himself.

 

He’s weak, yes, but he’s determined to not get hung up on it. That’s been his motto as a person for as long as he can remember. Getting hung up on things means being unable to live life to its fullest potential, and if Wonwoo wanted to sulk, he could just trade places with Mingyu and sit at the circulation desk all day instead of his partaking in his current endeavor.

 

“I bet he’s sad, too,” Wonwoo whispers to himself, opting to converse with nobody as opposed to keeping his thoughts inside. “You aren’t the only one.”

 

He pushes the cart to the next aisle, searching for the identification numbers on the spines of the remaining books. Wonwoo knows he should stop being upset, but part of him lives with Soonyoung whether he likes it or not. To find out that the person you value the most doesn’t even see you in that light is, well, it’s heartbreaking, and that’s simply put. Mingyu had brought him a few chocolate bars this morning upon clocking in, and Wonwoo found the gesture nice, but in no way could sugar mask the shadow on his face. It’s virtually impossible.

 

It’s been almost a month. Soonyoung still waves at him when he comes in when Wonwoo is working, and Wonwoo gives him a smile as he does with everyone he recognizes, so he can’t exactly say they’re on bad terms. This must be what healing is like, though, because the wounds are stretched as far as they can go and pulling them back to sew together hurts just as bad as it did when they were first ripped open.

 

“He’s definitely sad,” he says again, affirming his earlier musings. “I’m talking to myself in a library about how much I miss my ex-boyfriend, and I don’t think I could get more pathetic.” Wonwoo’s whispering is masked by the sound of the cart’s wheels rolling on the carpet.

 

He rounds a corner to pace down another aisle, but finds himself face-to-face with Jun, who stands with a hand on his hip, a thick book with a black paperback cover in his hands. When he looks up and sees Wonwoo, he grins, but then looks back to the book in his hands and quickly hides it at his side, smile turning nervous.

 

“Hey, Wonwoo,” he greets him, and now Wonwoo is definitely suspicious, as he can’t say he’s ever seen this side of Soonyoung’s roommate before. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I  _ work _ here,” Wonwoo says, rolling his eyes. “And you know that.”

 

“I do know that,” Jun plays off of him. “How are you?”

 

“Okay, I guess. You?”

 

“Same,” he answers. Wonwoo isn’t sure what’s going on, but Jun is a lot less intimidating than he is when he’s working on homework or when he’s been drinking. Most times, when Wonwoo had been in Soonyoung’s room, Jun had only made brief appearances, usually drunk, so Wonwoo doesn’t have much of an idea of what he’s like as a fully functioning human being outside of the crazy parties he finds himself at.

 

“I know you’re probably going to ask about Soonyoung,” Jun goes on, looking away timidly. “And the truth is, he’s doing as bad as you probably are.”

 

Wonwoo doesn’t know what to say. He had figured that Soonyoung had been down about it, but hearing that he’s still not doing well? It’s surprising, to say the least. Jun doesn’t meet his eyes, and Wonwoo definitely doesn’t feel like talking about Soonyoung, so he figures he’ll change the subject.

 

“What book is that?” he asks, pointing to what Jun holds in his hand.

 

“Oh,” Jun replies, “just something for a psychology project. It’s super embarrassing.”

 

“Let me see.”

 

Wonwoo closes the little bit of distance between them and reaches for the book in Jun’s hand, but Jun takes a hasty step back, cheeks turning red. Raising an eyebrow, Wonwoo smiles, trying again, and succeeding in that he pries the book from Jun’s hands, eliciting a sigh from the other boy as he gives up trying to hide it.

 

Fifty Shades of Gray. Interesting.

 

“You need _ this _ piece of trash for psychology?” Wonwoo laughs, trying to keep his volume as low as possible. Jun groans.

 

“Yes, unfortunately,” he confesses, snatching the book back from him. “My professor wanted us to do a study into the nature of unconventional relationships, and I’m ashamed to say that this book was the first thing that popped into my head.”

 

“I didn’t expect you to have such bad taste.”

 

Jun smirks. “And I didn’t expect you to expect anything about me,” he answers, and Wonwoo feels his ears grow hot. “But, I see how you would. We’ve never really had a proper introduction,” he finishes, and Wonwoo nods.

 

“I guess I always figured the only thing we had in common was Soonyoung,” Wonwoo admits.

 

“Well, in that case, let’s start again, now that he’s kind of out of the picture. Nice to meet you,” Jun sticks his hand out, and Wonwoo finds himself shaking it jokingly. “I’m Jun, I’m a sophomore psychology major, and a fun fact about me is that I can play the piano relatively well, contrary to popular belief.”

 

Wonwoo plays along. “Nice to meet you, Jun. I’m Wonwoo, I’m also a sophomore, and I’m majoring in education because good teachers are few and far between nowadays. I don’t really have any fun facts, but I’m very good at giving book recommendations and I do storytelling here at the library on Tuesday nights to local elementary school students.”

 

“Storytelling?” Jun questions.

 

With a nod, Wonwoo pushes his cart a little further down the aisle, shelving some books as he explains. Jun follows him. “Yeah,” he says earnestly, “it’s super fun. I like the library and I like teaching, so I figured reading Dr. Seuss and Shel Silverstein to kids would be a great way to combine all my uninteresting interests.”

 

“That’s far from uninteresting,” Jun says, and Wonwoo gives him a grateful smile.

 

“You’re acting like you want to be friends,” he comments.

 

“What’s so wrong with that?” defends Jun, and Wonwoo shrugs, lips in a tight line as he looks for the right place to put the book in his hand. He finds the number and slides it in between two others.

 

“Nothing,” Wonwoo says. “But be patient. I’m going through a breakup, so forgive me if I’m not as open and welcoming as usual.”

 

At this, Jun laughs, louder than what the library considers proper etiquette, and as an employee, Wonwoo should probably scold him, but he doesn’t. In a way, this is what he needs. He can’t believe him and Jun haven’t had an actual conversation the entire time they’ve known of each other, and it occurs to Wonwoo that Jun is the reason him and Soonyoung even started dating in the first place. If he hadn’t pointed out that Wonwoo had been staring at Soonyoung the entire night at that party freshman year, perhaps their paths never would’ve crossed and Wonwoo would have never known this sense of emptiness.

 

It has the potential to be filled, though, because Jun trails after him downstairs to the circulation desk, and Wonwoo takes his lunch break after an hour of conversing about the classes they’re in and their respective majors. Mingyu points out that Wonwoo looks somewhat normal again after Jun leaves, and Wonwoo smacks Mingyu’s shoulder with a newspaper, but he can’t deny that he’s right.

 

Talking with Jun had been nice. Wonwoo wishes, although he finds it mean, that Jun had been the one to join him and Soonyoung’s miniscule circle instead of Seokmin. It’s a terrible notion, but it’s as honest as he can be with himself now. Jun had more in common with him than he’d thought, and Wonwoo is wistful at that, because of course the universe would intervene after the fact that Soonyoung had already dumped him.

 

Perhaps, Wonwoo will find closure. Perhaps befriending Jun is where he can start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, i'm toying with the idea of another pairing here.
> 
> maybe you guys can tell what it is already.
> 
>  
> 
> but we'll have to see. in the meantime, have some fluffy, totally platonic verkwan cuddling.


	16. Chapter 16

“So, I was wondering if you wanted to come see me sing?”

 

Outside one of the math buildings on campus, Seokmin and Soonyoung are sitting on an ancient, wooden bench, and Seokmin pops the question as their conversation about how terrible their statistics class is dwindles down into nothing. Soonyoung raises an eyebrow.

 

“You sing?”

 

“Please don’t laugh.”

 

“Why would I laugh?”

 

“Because,” Seokmin huffs, grinning to hide his embarrassment. “I’m in the college’s Glee Club. There, _ now  _ please don’t laugh.”

 

Soonyoung, indeed, looks like he wants to let out a giggle or two, but stifles it when Seokmin stares him down. Upon realizing that he wanted an extracurricular club, Seokmin had joined the Glee Club instead of any of the more refined men’s choirs, because it had seemed like more fun. It was, to be honest. They sang good, up-to-date music and got to put on entertaining concerts, which is why Seokmin wants Soonyoung to come. In his most natural state, Seokmin is singing loudly and proudly, dancing like an idiot, and probably making a fool of himself, but it doesn’t matter, because at least he’s not alone.

 

“Sure,” Soonyoung answers. “I’ll come see you sing. When’s the concert?”

 

“Tonight,” Seokmin says sheepishly. “It’s really short notice, so I totally understand if you don’t want to, or if you need monetary bribery, or —”

 

Soonyoung grabs his hands as he talks with them, and Seokmin shuts up instantly. It’s been like this for a while. Whereas the month of April is coming to an end, thoughts of whatever it is the two of them are becoming seem to continue on in Seokmin’s mind forever. Soonyoung seems to realize this as well, as his cheeks redden and he lets go of his hands, putting his own neatly in his lap.

 

“Seokmin,” he says, “I don’t know how to put this, but seeing you sing will probably be a privilege on its own.”

 

“So, it’s  _ not  _ too short notice?”

 

Soonyoung laughs, the sound scaring some birds in a tree a little ways away. “Of course not. I’m not a busy guy, if you haven’t been able to tell.”

 

“Good point. You’re always hanging out with me.”

 

“And that’s what keeps me the busiest.”

 

They get up from the bench, Seokmin realizing he has to get to his literature class. Soonyoung walks with him, leaving with a wave and a smile, and Seokmin ducks his head while he walks away from him. As of late, it’s been more and more obvious, he thinks, that Soonyoung is willfully attaching himself to Seokmin’s hip. They don’t go anywhere without each other, and while Seokmin has no complaints, it does make him more conscious of all the stares they get when they’re in some world of their own, laughing at their own jokes and looking nowhere except for in each others’ directions.

 

Is this what Seokmin had wanted? He tries to think back to the beginning of the year, when Wonwoo had introduced them, and it feels like years have come and gone. He hasn’t seen Wonwoo in a while, and he wonders if he’s still doing well. Soonyoung tells him all the time that he still feels bad, but at least he’s starting to move on. Wonwoo, on the other hand, has been off the grid apparently, as Seokmin only catches glances of him while he works his hours in the library. It’s strange how much can change in a matter of months.

 

Seokmin sits through his one remaining class, not paying much attention, instead choosing to gaze out the window and daydream about his concert and seeing Soonyoung in the audience, cheering for him. It puts a smile on his face. He’s glad he knows why.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Seungkwan is a very forgetful person, which is why he isn’t at all surprised when he checks himself out in a mirror in the bathroom of the backstage concert hall area and notices he’s missing a bowtie. 

 

“Shit,” he mutters, running his hands down his pants to smooth the creases. 

 

The Glee Club concert begins in about half an hour, which definitely isn’t enough time for him to sprint back to his dorm and grab what he needs, so he goes back to the holding area and paces around for a little while before asking a few other members if anyone would happen to have a spare. Seungkwan hates himself for burdening people; normally, he’d be fine with the prospect of making a new friend or two, but asking someone for an extra bowtie just seems like too much.

 

“I have one!”

 

Seungkwan is about to give up when he hears a guy yell at him from the corner. He stands by a chair, drawstring bag sitting open on the seat. Seungkwan heaves a sigh of relief. The other boy pulls a black bowtie out and Seungkwan walks over.

 

“You’re my savior,” he says gratefully.

 

“No, it’s okay!” He smiles, and Seungkwan takes the bowtie and puts it on himself, being careful to make sure it’s straight. “I always carry an extra of everything. An extra bowtie has never come in handy before, but lo and behold,” he says, motioning to Seungkwan, who just stands there awkwardly.

 

“Thank you,” he laughs. “Uh, what’s your name? I don’t really know anyone in Glee Club. I just show up to sing, so sorry if you ever introduced yourself because I probably wasn’t paying attention.”

 

“Understandable,” he replies, smile still large on his face. “I’m Seokmin.”

 

Seungkwan repeats his name in his head in rapid-fire succession, making sure he can match his face with the name Seokmin. Although he is a forgetful person, Seungkwan can pride himself on his ability to remember faces, and this one isn’t one that seems likely to escape his memory; the smile he wears is almost obnoxious, but it’s charming to see the way his eyes crinkle at something that couldn’t possibly be funny or joyous to anyone else. 

 

“I’m Seungkwan,” he says, figuring that this is a networking opportunity in the most lowkey way. “Are you a freshman?”

 

Seokmin nods. “Yeah. You?”

 

“Yeah, unfortunately. What’s your major?”

 

With a shrug, Seokmin makes a face that seems to be confused. “No idea,” he comments. “I’m just here to figure life out. I’m taking every subject you could possibly think of right now, and none of it interests me. The only thing I like is doing this.” He motions around the large room, members of the club milling about, and Seungkwan nods thoughtfully.

 

“So, you’re definitely into music,” he chides. Seokmin laughs, and he’s grateful for the mutual understanding. “I’m just here because I didn’t want to outshine all the men’s choir members.”

 

“Wow, Seungkwan. At least now I know you’re humble!”

 

They chat idly until the director of the Glee Club says it’s time to do vocal warming up and Seungkwan stands in a row beside Seokmin, appreciating his voice upon clearly hearing it for the first time. Something tells him the bowtie he’s wearing is a bonafide good luck charm of sorts, because he hardly notices the butterflies in his stomach when they go on stage to start the concert.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Fancy seeing you here.”

 

Even in his nicest clothes, Hansol doesn’t compare to Soonyoung, who he greets upon seeing in one of the first few rows of the auditorium. The older student looks dashing, and he holds a small bouquet of flowers in his lap, yellows and oranges mixing together to give the thing a vibe reminiscent of a sunrise. Hansol hasn’t ever seen him out of his work apron, so he’s quite surprised to see him now, wearing nice black slacks and a dark purple button down. He looks up and smiles upon hearing Hansol’s voice, and he pats the seat beside him enthusiastically. Hansol takes the seat and feels a little self-conscious of his own outfit choice of jeans and a green sweater.

 

“Hansol! It’s been a while,” Soonyoung says, and Hansol finds himself nodding.

 

“Who’re those for?” he asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.

 

“A friend,” is his reply, soft smile masking his words with something sweeter than sugar.

 

If Hansol had known any better, he would’ve brought flowers too, because he knows how much Seungkwan would probably appreciate the gesture. He makes a mental note to remember for next time. Seeing Seungkwan sing is something he’s been looking forward to forever, or at least since he’d been aware that his best friend had such an amazing voice. The thought of doing anything romantic for him had simply slipped his mind in all the excitement.

 

“Come to see anyone in particular?” Soonyoung whispers now, the lights in the auditorium dimming as the Glee Club clamorously takes the stage.

 

Hansol searches the faces of the people onstage, and he sees Seungkwan towards the left of the risers, smiling widely. He points a finger inconspicuously for Soonyoung to follow. “Him,” he says fondly. “That’s Seungkwan, my best friend.”

 

Soonyoung nudges his shoulder playfully. “How sweet,” he teases.

 

“Who’s  _ your _ friend? Is one of those girls up there the lucky one getting that bouquet?” Hansol throws back. Soonyoung looks like he’s about to burst with laughter at his comment, but he holds a hand up to his mouth and then points to the guy standing directly to the right of Seungkwan.

 

“No, actually, the recipient of these beautiful flowers is the goofy-looking guy right next to your best friend,” Soonyoung says, and Hansol mentally slaps himself for assuming it’d be a girl. “I’m trying to woo him with my impeccable taste.”

 

“I’m sure it’ll work,” Hansol assures him jokingly, quieting down now as the opening comments are made by the director. He keeps his eyes on Seungkwan, who looks to the audience now, a full house settling down. Hansol wills him to look his way, and he does. The lights are dim, but not dim enough to shield him from Seungkwan, and their eyes meet, which obviously makes Hansol’s heart leap. Seungkwan’s bowtie is only the tiniest bit crooked, but he looks amazing on stage, and when he sees Hansol staring, the smile on his face turns shy, but brilliant nonetheless.

 

Halfway through the concert, they sing Take On Me, and Hansol looks from the corner of his eye to see Soonyoung grinning wildly as a small group of the tenors hit the high notes; his friend is among them. He knows what it’s like to feel this proud about someone, and he turns back to watch Seungkwan dance around joyfully, looking as happy as ever. He’s glad Seungkwan has a passion. Hansol, on the other hand, is way too average at a lot of things to ever relate. 

 

“He’s really good,” Hansol whispers, hearing Soonyoung’s friend individually when he goes into falsetto. “Is he a music major by any chance?”

 

Soonyoung shakes his head, eyes shining, not even bothering to look away. “No, he’s undecided like me. This is the first time I’m hearing him sing,” he says shyly. “I didn’t know he was this amazing.”

 

“It sounds like you guys are really close.”

 

“Yeah,” Soonyoung agrees, “we are. He’s great.” 

 

As the concert ends and the audience’s applause stops, the lights come back on gradually. Hansol blinks, and he gets up and follows Soonyoung out into the aisle.

 

“I hope it goes well,” Hansol notes, motioning towards the flowers he holds. “I’m sure he’ll swoon.”

 

Soonyoung laughs loudly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yeah, a guy can only dream, right? I’ll see you later, dude. I gotta go catch up with him. Come by the mini mart more often,” he adds, bumping Hansol’s shoulder before he walks off. “You’re good company.”

 

Hansol smiles to himself, navigating the groups of people who filter out into the lobby area of the performance hall. He scans the crowd, looking for Seungkwan, when someone suddenly grabs his hand and pulls him around.

 

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” Seungkwan says, and Hansol is relieved it’s him. He drags him off to the side against a wall, and his cheeks are red as if he’s been running. The bowtie he wears is still crooked. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

 

“I don’t know,” he answers, confused. “Why, did you not want me to come? I really wanted to see you perform.”

 

“It’s not that,” Seungkwan says, rolling his eyes. “It’s just that I didn’t put a whole one hundred percent into that performance. Sure,” he adds, talking with his hands, exaggerating his words, “maybe it was around ninety percent, but had I known you’d be here beforehand, I would’ve done more!”

 

Hansol shakes his head. He realizes Seungkwan is still holding his hand. Suddenly, he’s very conscious of how sweaty his palms must be, and he wants to tear away, but Seungkwan apparently doesn’t mind.

 

“You were awesome, Seungkwan,” he admits. It’s the truth. This makes his best friend beam. “I knew you could sing, and that’s just from hearing your Adele impressions when you shower, but I didn’t know you’d be that good.”

 

“Well, I try, Hansol. I certainly try.”

 

They leave the hall together, and Hansol misses the feeling of Seungkwan’s hand when he lets go as soon as they get outside. He’s tempted to throw an arm around his shoulders, but he doesn’t, and maybe it’s because all the people around are making him too self-conscious. He doesn’t get why Seungkwan always makes it a point to tell him how cool he is; Hansol thinks he’s the least cool person on Earth whenever they’re together.

 

Seungkwan points at a couple a little ways ahead of them on the sidewalk as they begin the trek back to the dorm. “Hey,” he says, sounding accusatory. Hansol’s stomach flips. “He got him flowers. Why didn’t I get any, huh?” Phew. Hansol grins sheepishly, and then realizes it’s Soonyoung and his friend.

 

“I know him!” he exclaims. Hansol grabs Seungkwan’s hand again and pulls him along, pace quickening to catch up. Soonyoung and the other guy seem to be deep in conversation when they approach.

 

“Hey, Soonyoung!”

 

He turns and sees Hansol, which prompts a wave and a smile, as always.

 

“Hey, long time no see! This is Seokmin,” he says, tilting his head in his friend’s direction. Hansol notices how tightly he holds onto the bouquet.

 

“Seokmin?” Seungkwan interjects. “Oh, right! Seokmin! You let me borrow your bowtie!”

 

“Guilty as charged,” Seokmin replies, smirking. 

 

“Wow,” Hansol comments. “Small world, right?”

 

Seungkwan undoes the bowtie and hands it to Seokmin, who shoves it in his pants pocket. Soonyoung whispers something in his ear, and Seungkwan looks at Hansol awkwardly, sending some message that asked if they should just pull back and let the two of them be. 

 

“Is this the guy you told me about, Seokmin?” Seungkwan says, interrupting their secret conversation.

 

“You told him about me?” Soonyoung asks, and Seokmin’s ears darken under the hair that covers the tips of them.

 

“Yeah,” answers Seungkwan, continuing on his behalf. “He wouldn’t stop mentioning you. We were getting ready to go on and I had to tell him to shut up about the fact that you were coming.” 

 

At this, Soonyoung’s smile looks like it’s about to burst at the seams, and Seokmin has to defend himself, to no avail. Hansol finds it funny. It’s very obvious that Soonyoung finds something endearing about him, and he doesn’t blame him. Seokmin is super talented, cute, and very funny, according to Seungkwan’s comments. The two of them eventually pull away and leave Seungkwan and him alone, heading off in the direction of one of the sophomore dorm buildings, where Hansol assumes Soonyoung lives.

 

“They’re so obvious,” Seungkwan mentions out of nowhere.

 

“About what?”

 

“Oh c’mon,” he says, pace slowing. “You can totally tell Seokmin has a thing for him.”

 

Hansol smiles faintly. “Yeah, I guess. Here I was, thinking Soonyoung was the one having the thing.”

 

“They both totally want to date,” Seungkwan states matter-of-factly, and Hansol can almost hear the wisecrack coming out. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think they’re already a couple.”

 

“Do we act like that?” Hansol throws, and Seungkwan side-eyes him as if he’s just said something stupid.

 

“Do you  _ think _ we do?” 

 

When Hansol shrugs, making some noise that indicates his own confusion, Seungkwan rolls his eyes and huffs before shaking his head mockingly. “If we acted like that, I’d start to hate myself,” he says, which puts a damper on Hansol’s mood. “But we have our own way of acting.”

 

“Elaborate,” Hansol says. Seungkwan stays quiet for a few moments, the only sounds coming from his dress shoes that slap the pavement as they walk. Hansol is glad that the sun has started to set, and he’s also glad that the quad they’re on right now is mostly empty. He wants to know what Seungkwan is really thinking, but Seungkwan has a habit of never telling him the truth unless he really digs it out of him.

 

Tonight must be different, because unexpectedly, Seungkwan grabs his hand and weaves his fingers in between Hansol’s own, and he tugs on his arm as they walk as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

 

“We’re us, they’re them,” Seungkwan says, plain and simple. “I may act like I want to push you away sometimes, and other times I act like this.” He bats his eyelashes and Hansol can’t stop himself from laughing. “See? We’re complicated.”

 

“There’s not a lot that’s complicated about this,” Hansol remarks, holding up their hands for Seungkwan to see. “You’re literally holding my hand.”

 

Seungkwan must hate him, because he pulls his hand away and crosses his arms, waiting for Hansol to say something. 

 

“Give me your hand, you idiot,” he complains.

 

“Nope,” Seungkwan replies.

 

“Why not?”

 

“It’s complicated.”

 

Somehow, that answer gives Hansol all the clarity he needs, because he wishes Seungkwan hadn’t pulled away. The sheer fact that he’d been the one to grab his hand in the first place told him that there was some tiny voice in his best friend’s head that was telling him it was okay to feel like this, that it was okay to ignore any predisposition about the feelings he knew he was starting to have. Hansol knows, because he feels it too. He feels it when Seungkwan tells him goodnight and the tone of his voice suggests that he wants Hansol to stick around for a while. He feels it even more when they stay up texting, despite Seungkwan telling him he needs to get to bed.

 

Hansol isn’t the best at feelings, but he does know a lot about Seungkwan’s. He guesses that he keeps trying to hide things that are already out in the open, and Hansol won’t complain, because he knows he can keep trying.

 

Seungkwan may push him away, but at least he always comes back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so now two storylines meet.  
> this chapter made me happy to write. i hope it's happy to read.


	17. Chapter 17

The brilliant idea of starting a book club hits Wonwoo when he sits at the circulation desk, dodging the paper clips that Mingyu occasionally throws at him in vain attempts at getting them tangled in his hair.

 

“Mingyu,” he asks, “do you know if there’s already a book club on campus?”

 

The freshman shakes his head. “I’ve only been here for a semester and a half, how would I know? If anyone would know, it’d be you. I guess your title of biggest nerd ever doesn’t hold true anymore.”

 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo guesses, shrugging as he spins around in his chair. “I suppose that’s true. But still, thanks for being no help.”

 

“Of course.”

 

Wonwoo likes reading as much as the next guy, but he especially likes talking to people about the things he reads. Material for his classes isn’t all that interesting, but he is big on historical fiction, and he wonders if that’s too narrow of a field to snowball interest around the university. Surely, there’d be someone who’d be willing to meet two or three times a month to talk about books, right? It is April, though, which means there’s only a month left until summer break. It might not be the best idea to try and start a club now; Wonwoo can’t let the idea slip his mind, though.

 

“Ooh, look who it is,” Mingyu says, halting his paper clip-throwing game momentarily.

 

Wonwoo faces the library entrance and sees Jun come in, a large stack of books in his hands. He strides up to the desk and sets them down, leaning one arm on the stack to look at him coyly.

 

“Hi,” he greets.

 

“Want to return those?” Wonwoo asks, looking up at him. He hears Mingyu snort, and in turn, Jun glances over to him.

 

“What are you laughing at, Mingyu?”

 

“Nothing at all,” he responds, spinning around in his own chair until he faces the computer instead of Jun. Wonwoo is considering punishing Mingyu by making him take his job of reshelving books because he knows how much he hates it, but lets the idea go.

 

Jun meets Wonwoo’s eyes again and smiles. “I actually want to renew this top one,” he says, and Wonwoo grabs it to scan it and refresh the due date. “I found it interesting, actually, which is very surprising.”

 

Wonwoo reads the cover. It’s a book on Greek mythology, which strikes Wonwoo as unusual, because Jun had never seemed like the type to enjoy this sort of thing. Oh well. If he wanted to read about gods and goddesses, then Wonwoo would support him in his endeavors.

 

“The rest of them you want returned, though?” he asks, setting the scanned book back on the counter. Jun nods.

 

“Yes, if you don’t mind.”

 

“Of course I don’t mind.”

 

He grabs the stack of six or seven books after scanning them and gets up from his chair to put them on his cart. Jun watches him carefully, and Wonwoo is suddenly very self-conscious while he does his job, which has only ever happened when he knew Soonyoung was around. He wants to shudder but he doesn’t really know why.

 

“What are you up to today?” Wonwoo asks him, dropping back down in the rolly chair.

 

Jun tilts his head. “I was thinking about hanging out with a friend while he works, if that’s okay. I wouldn’t want him to get too distracted, you know.”

 

Wonwoo plays dumb, realizing he’s referring to him. “I’m sure he’d be fine with that.”

 

“Would he also care to take a little walk with me? Maybe he could get some of that reshelving done.”

 

Mingyu is stifling his laughter from where he sits across from them at the computer; Wonwoo, although very flattered, is wishing to dig himself a hole, jump in, and bury himself alive, because Jun is obviously trying to pull something here and he isn’t quite sure what. He stands and waits; Wonwoo rolls the cart out from behind the desk and smacks Mingyu in the back of the head while he’s at it, prompting the underclassman to curse at him under his breath. Wonwoo only catches a word or two as he walks away, Jun trailing him.

 

“He’s so embarrassing,” Wonwoo rants as soon as the two of them get in the elevator to go up to the fifth floor. He taps the handle of the cart angrily.

 

Jun bumps their shoulders together. “He’s just being a typical guy,” he says, and Wonwoo rolls his eyes. “We’re all dumb and immature, aren’t we?”

 

“I would hope that _I’m_ not.”

 

“You’re probably the one exception,” Jun says calmly. “How you ever dated Soonyoung is a mystery to me. He’s a loose cannon and you’re, well, you’re you.”

 

Since they’re in the elevator, Wonwoo has no problem raising his voice above a whisper. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

 

With a smirk, Jun says, “Wonwoo, do you really think I’d insult you?”

 

And at that question, Wonwoo isn’t really sure. Jun is great company, and he’s always so nice and very attentive when they’re together, which is usually only when Wonwoo is working and Jun stops by to talk. Something is just throwing him off, though. Every time he thinks they’re getting somewhere in their own friendship, Jun mentions Soonyoung, which in turn makes Wonwoo want to go nap for several hours straight. It is exhausting, but he won’t say anything. He’s sure Jun is just reminded of it constantly, seeing as his ex-boyfriend is his roommate after all, so Wonwoo supposes he’ll put up with it.

 

The elevator doors creak open and Wonwoo pushes the cart out, scanning aisles for places to put the books he has.

 

“It must be nice working here,” Jun whispers.

 

Wonwoo finds himself nodding. “Yeah, it is. It’s always quiet. It be way better if Mingyu wasn’t such a child, but that’s another story,” he says quietly, humor in his words.

 

“Have you ever considered going for him?”

 

He nearly drops an edition of Moby Dick on the carpeted ground. “Mingyu?” he questions, disbelief in his voice. “Hell no. Mingyu is like… he’s like a little brother to me, if on the off chance we could ever be related in the first place.”

 

Jun smiles. “Interesting,” he replies, and Wonwoo’s ears grow hot. “But he’s cute, don’t you think? I’d go for him if I had a chance.”

 

“You’re weird,” Wonwoo throws back, choosing not to address the second part of his statement. Jun is attractive, way more than he finds Mingyu to be, so he doesn’t know why he throws out all these self-deprecating comments. Wonwoo wonders if he’s ever even looked in a mirror at himself. His taste, personally, is all over the place. Wonwoo finds a lot of types of people attractive, as is evident. He thinks about Soonyoung, his rounded cheeks and shorter frame popping up first in his mind, and he compares him to Jun, who stands beside him, willowy and lanky and very reminiscent of stone at times. His face is much more defined, which is exactly why Wonwoo looks away from him, careful as to not let his eyes linger too long.

 

“Weird?” Jun echoes, leaning up on a bookshelf. His eyes watch Wonwoo put Moby Dick back on the shelf where it belongs. “I wouldn’t say that.”

 

“I would. And I am.”

 

“What makes me weird?”

 

Wonwoo shrugs. “I don’t know. Whenever we hang out in here, I feel like I’m keeping secrets, or doing something I’m not supposed to be doing.” He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he realizes how stupid his excuse sounds. “Okay, maybe not that, but it just feels like you want to interrogate me.”

 

“Maybe I do,” Jun says, smiling.

 

“You do?”

 

“I don’t think you get it,” he continues, following as Wonwoo pushes his cart along. “We never got a chance to establish a friendship, and now that you’re not going googly-eyed over your ex-boyfriend every five seconds—”

 

“Jun,” Wonwoo interrupts, stopping the cart. Jun stops as well, face falling. “Please stop bringing him up. I’m trying to heal, here,” he reiterates, pressing two fingers to his temple in some attempt to ward off a coming headache.

 

“I’m sorry,” Jun answers. Wonwoo is afraid he’s said something wrong, which is bullshit, because he knows his feelings are valid. The guilt of being mean, though, is in the back of his mind as he desperately tries to salvage the conversation.

 

“Give me a reason to not think about Soonyoung,” he adds, smiling so Jun knows he isn’t that hurt over it.

 

“You could always go googly-eyed over Mingyu.”

 

At this, he jokingly retches without a sound, causing Jun to giggle, which, in turn, causes Wonwoo to blush. He really is pathetic. Each time Jun mentions Mingyu, Wonwoo grows increasingly fake-irritated, and by the time they’re back downstairs at the circulation desk, just the sight of Mingyu sitting there is enough to make Jun burst out laughing.

 

“What?” Mingyu asks, mouth full of the half-eaten granola bar in his hand.

 

“Nothing,” Wonwoo says. “Jun just thinks you’re hot.”

 

Eyebrows raised, Mingyu turns to Jun, who is shaking his head about as fast as Wonwoo thinks is humanly possible. “That is _so_ not true.”

 

Wonwoo ignores him. “Yeah, he told me he’d totally date you if you turned out to be into older men.”

 

“Jeon Wonwoo, you _asshole.”_

 

At the mention of his name, Wonwoo grins, and while Mingyu sputters over his response to the bait, him and Jun look at each other and immediately look away, too flustered to say more. Jun may be strange, he thinks, but his sense of humor and the way he seems to make everything into a game is enthralling. Wonwoo used to see it as annoying, but getting to know him means illuminating all the former negatives and turning them around for the better. Perhaps Soonyoung had blinded him this entire time, as anyone who was similar to him apparently paled in comparison. Without him around, Wonwoo can appreciate the things he’s been missing, and that includes Jun as a person and as a friend.

 

Wonwoo thinks that Jun always joking about him and Mingyu getting together is an obvious red herring. The joke may be a joke, but Wonwoo is usually pretty decent at reading people. The way Jun hesitates to leave when Wonwoo insists on getting back to work tells him a lot about his intentions, and if Wonwoo is correct in assuming so, he’ll have to be careful not to go looking for a rebound.

 

Because, as it is obvious, the rebound is right there in front of him. Jun is trying to weasel his way into the gaps Soonyoung left, but Wonwoo isn’t quite ready. Just the prospect of being friends is daunting to him, because Jun has a lot to offer. That’s never good. The most intriguing people usually made for the worst, not very well-thought out decisions.

 

He debates bringing this up to Mingyu, but the latter does it before he has a chance to come to his conclusions.

 

“Jun is nice,” he mentions casually, about half an hour after Jun had left.

 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo answers, making some noise affirming Mingyu’s words.

 

“Does he really think I’m hot?”

 

“No. Today’s opposite day.”

 

“Wonwoo, this is why you have no friends.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

Mingyu does, in fact, shut up, but his obnoxious clicking on the keyboard that comes next is the most spiteful thing Wonwoo has ever heard.

 

“Hey,” he says, lowering his voice. “How do you feel about covering my shift on Thursday?”

 

“Why?” Mingyu answers, turning to face him.

 

Here goes nothing. “I was thinking,” he says, tapping a pencil on his cheek, the eraser leaving a faint mark on his skin. “I want to ask Jun to hang out somewhere that isn’t here, because I really think getting to know someone in a library isn’t exactly the most effective way to form a friendship.”

 

Mingyu frowns. “Thursday is one of the busiest days,” he points out, and Wonwoo has to agree with him. It’s the only day Jun has open, he remembers, because they’d been talking about course loads, and Wonwoo knows they both only have one class on that day. “You’re going to have to find someone who doesn’t work to cover you, because I can’t do both of our jobs.”

 

“Fine. I’ll ask around. But you’ll man the station if I’m not there?”

 

“Of course,” he gushes, smile cheesy and wide. “Wow, I’m glad you think so highly of me!”

 

“I don’t,” Wonwoo puts simply, trying to make sure his lips are tight and his expression is plain. “But you’re the only other one scheduled to work the desk, so I’d assume you’d have to take the reigns.”

 

“Deny it all you want, Wonwoo. I know you care about me.”

 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes. He does, though, and that’s why they’re such good friends. Mingyu is a piece of work, but Wonwoo feels obligated to help him keep his shit together, despite their personality divide. He turns back around and pulls his phone out of his pocket. His thumb hovers over Soonyoung’s messages, and he opens them, typing a quick request.

 

‘Hey. Do you know anyone who’d be willing to volunteer at the library on Thursday?’

 

The reply comes almost instantly.

 

‘Yeah, why?’

 

He hesitates, choosing to lie about his plans instead of putting it out there that he may or may not be intending on getting to know his roommate.

 

‘I have a study session for a class that interferes with my shift. Can you give me the number of whoever it is so I can give them details?’

 

‘Sure,’ is Soonyoung’s answer, with a screenshot of a contact named Seungkwan that includes his cell number. Wonwoo puts the information in his own phone and types a quick thank you to Soonyoung, who leaves him on read, as he expects.

 

So, that sorts that out. This guy Seungkwan would work his shift and hopefully Mingyu wouldn’t train him wrong and end up setting the building on fire or something drastic like that. Now, all that’s left to do is text Jun, but Wonwoo puts his phone away, opting to drown himself in his work instead of confronting him about his plans two days from now.

 

Maybe, he'd ask him if he wants to join his book club.

 

Beat that, Mingyu, Wonwoo thinks, mentally snatching his title of biggest nerd back to keep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Mingyu finds out about Wonwoo’s replacement on Thursday, as he had promised, and he has to resist the urge to puke when Wonwoo texts him the name.

 

Of course Seungkwan would be doing it. The universe, although large and mysterious, seems to really love smacking Mingyu in the face and making his heart want to beat right out of his chest and onto the floor. He has to spend a whole ten minutes in the library’s bathroom before he clocks in, making sure every hair on his head is in place and every wrinkle in his clothes is smooth and no longer existing. His mind races from the worst to slightly more worse than that. What if Seungkwan runs away again? Then Mingyu will be left to man the desk all by himself, and he’d be sure to make Wonwoo pay serious retribution. Knowing Seungkwan, Mingyu supposes that’s one of two options. The other is that he’ll keep to himself and not speak a word to him unless he has to, and quite honestly, Mingyu would prefer for him to run away than have to sit through four hours of awkward silence and passing glances while they work.

 

Mingyu leaves the bathroom and tries to think of happy things, like puppies and punching Wonwoo in the face, but no thoughts come that can erase the dread building in the back of his mind.

 

He sees Seungkwan right away. He’s pacing around in front of the circulation desk, face scrunched up just how Mingyu knows it is when he’s thinking. Contrary to what Seungkwan must think, Mingyu does and has missed him for the past year or so, and although things ended a little rocky, Mingyu wants to explain why everything had gone wrong. After all, he’s had a year to think about it.

 

Seungkwan looks up as Mingyu approaches, and Mingyu suddenly feels like he’s eight feet tall. Has Seungkwan always been this short?

 

“Uh,” is all he manages to say.

 

“Nice to see you, too,” Seungkwan cuts in, not meeting his eyes, but instead staring somewhere behind him, hardly even trying to be subtle. “I’m volunteering to cover a shift here.”

 

“I know,” Mingyu responds, snapping out of it. God, it’s almost like he’s trying to be awkward on purpose. He wants to apologize, but now is not the time nor place, and it’s just making his guts feel more tied up than they should feel. “Come on. I’ll show you what you have to do.”

 

Seungkwan, although initially seeming disinterested, looks to be attentive as Mingyu sits down at the computer and demonstrates how to check books back in when they’re returned. He scans a barcode on one, clicks the availability box and checks it, and then slides the book onto the cart for reshelving.

 

“So, that’s what Wonwoo does all day. Got it?”

 

Surprisingly, Seungkwan manages to smile. “Sure,” he answers, sitting in the chair that Mingyu had just gotten up from.

 

They spend about an hour working in silence, Mingyu almost forgetting that Seungkwan is sitting a few feet away. He can feel that there’s some weird air, which is to be expected. Mingyu is the reason they aren’t friends anymore. As much as Seungkwan must have tortured himself, Mingyu knows he’s been living with the guilt instead, unable to do anything because he’s always been certain that Seungkwan hates his guts now.

 

Apparently, Mingyu is too much of a coward to say anything, even now, with Seungkwan right here.

 

But, he’s been keeping the truth to himself for the past year, unsure of what to do about it, and he hopes to find a time to tell him. Seungkwan had meant everything to him, and to know that he’s probably been hung up on it for this long is pitiful. They were best friends, and Mingyu has nothing to show for it now. He wants to stand up and shout it out loud. If he wasn’t in a library, Mingyu might do it.

 

The truth, he thinks, is a bit of a bombshell, so he’ll wait until Seungkwan can actually look him in the eyes to put it out there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't mean for this to be this long but you do whatcha gotta do to bring up angsty memories and newfound feelings.


	18. Chapter 18

Mingyu comes to the realization that he’s bisexual when he’s a junior in high school.

 

Now, as any logical teenager would do, he doesn’t tell a soul. Instead, he goes to school as normal, secret kept under lock and key, and he spends every waking second wondering if he’s insane for putting such a label on something that might just be him being confused. No, he thinks. It’s valid. His feelings are valid. They’re especially valid when he sees Seungkwan coming up to him in the hallway and he can’t help but stare him down like a deer caught in headlights.

 

“You look like you just witnessed a murder,” Seungkwan greets him, shoulder pressing up against the locker beside Mingyu’s own. His eyes move up and down and Mingyu feels like shrinking, which isn’t possible, because he’s fairly certain he has another five growth spurts to go.

 

Mingyu relaxes back into habit. “I did. My hopes and dreams are slaughtered,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, which conveniently feels red-hot.

 

“English?” Seungkwan raises and eyebrow.

 

Mingyu nods. He’d just taken a test in fourth period that he’s positive he’d failed; when half of the answers were filled out as ‘C,’ usually it didn’t mean well. “I bombed it,” he admits. “You’re gonna need all the luck in the world.”

 

Seungkwan laughs and swats at his arm playfully. Mingyu nearly flinches away.

 

“Woah,” he reacts, frowning. The first lunch bell rings. “What’s wrong with you?”

 

Mingyu shuts his locker and sticks the lock back on, twisting the dial a few times. Him and Seungkwan walk together down the hall and Mingyu cradles his history textbook in his arms. Lunch is usually his favorite time of day; for the past week or so, he’s been feeling constantly nauseous, so the prospect of chowing down on his turkey sandwich isn’t all that appealing. They sit at their usual corner table together, as they had upon first talking back in freshman year. 

 

“So, what’s up?” 

 

The question comes when Mingyu has a mouth full of cinnamon applesauce. Seungkwan eyes him from across the table; he always has a way of making Mingyu feel like he’s done something wrong. 

 

“Nothing,” he answers, swallowing the applesauce. He tries to return Seungkwan’s look, and probably fails, because his best friend snorts wildly.

 

“That doesn’t sound convincing at all, Gyu.”

 

“Sure it does!”

 

Seungkwan shakes his head. “See, now your voice is getting higher, which means that you’re hiding something.”

 

He leans closer, nearly knocking over his water bottle, and Mingyu tries to hide the fact that no words are coming to mind. How does he explain to Seungkwan what he’s going through? Mingyu  _ himself  _ doesn’t even know what he’s going through. There’s a storm brewing strongly in his stomach; it hurts and it’s confusing and Mingyu doesn’t want to think about it, especially not when Seungkwan’s eyes won’t leave his face.

 

“It’s really nothing,” he finds himself mumbling, getting up with his trash in hand. “I gotta stop by the library, so I’ll see you later.”

 

Mingyu leaves Seungkwan alone at their table. He ignores him as he calls out after him. Suddenly, the world feels a whole lot more overwhelming than it should. Mingyu heads down the hall to the bathroom by the cafeteria and bursts in, going into the closest stall, and he shuts and locks the door. He looks around like he’s supposed to see some sort of sign.

 

There’s a looming feeling of dread; the static in his ears is enough to remind Mingyu that he is, in fact, not dying. The heart in his chest doesn’t beat like his. It’s erratic and he feels like it’ll explode, so he tries to breathe as deep as he can.

 

Why is he like this?

 

Mingyu has a good grip of himself most times. When Seungkwan is being irrational, Mingyu is the one who’s there to slow him down and make him think. It’s pathetic that he can’t even look himself in the eyes and sort out his own issues. Sexuality is confusing, he knows that, so why is he trying to rationalize it? He’s had crushes on girls all throughout high school, and the thing to disrupt the status quo had been Seungkwan.

 

Seungkwan. His best friend. God, what a way to realize he likes guys.

 

Mingyu skips the rest of his classes and stays in the bathroom stall, thinking about how to tell someone that he’s finally realized who he is. The glory of being a junior hasn’t caught up to him until right now, when everything hits at once and it’s all too much for someone like him to carry. Mingyu vows to never say a word about it to anyone.

 

And so, that’s why when Seungkwan leaves from covering Wonwoo’s shift, Mingyu watches him walk out of the library and hopes that he’ll turn back. It’s his own fault they aren’t laughing like they used to, or singing together still like they’d dreamed of doing. It’s Mingyu’s fault that Seungkwan doesn’t look over his shoulder, or wave goodbye, or anything of the sort.

 

If Mingyu were braver, he’d tell him that a long time ago, he fell in love when it wasn’t the right time or place. Then again, it rarely is for anyone. Mingyu isn’t special.

 

He certainly isn’t special for ruining a friendship because he was scared to be himself. The closet was a far less daunting place than the atmosphere outside. As Mingyu grows more comfortable with putting himself out there, perhaps he’ll let Seungkwan know. 

 

Until then, he’ll just have to watch him leave.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I think I know what I want to major in.”

 

Soonyoung’s head is in Seokmin’s lap. Sometimes, they find themselves in such positions, and Seokmin thinks it’s endearing that Soonyoung likes having his hair played with, or that he also likes to shut his eyes and doze off, cheek pressed against one of his knees. They always sit idle in Soonyoung’s room, on the floor, leaned up against the bed. It’s routine, now. Seokmin supposes it’s fitting.

 

“You do?” Soonyoung answers.

 

“Yeah,” he continues. “I really enjoy the social work class I’m in right now, and I love helping people, so a major in social work sounds like a lot of fun to me.”

 

Soonyoung tilts his head and Seokmin looks down at him. He gives him a smile, eyes disappearing.

 

“That’s amazing,” he admits.

 

“Is it?”

 

“Yeah,” Soonyoung goes on. “You have your life figured out now, and I’m a year older and still have no idea what the hell is happening half the time.”

 

Seokmin pats his head gently. “You’ll get there.”

 

Just then, the door to the room swings open and Jun comes in, trailed by Wonwoo. At first, he looks like he’s about to follow him in, but upon meeting Seokmin’s eyes, he just hangs around the doorframe, drawing his hands into his sweater sleeves.

 

Soonyoung shoots up and nearly bashes his forehead on Seokmin’s chin.

 

“What are you guys doing here?” he sputters, as Jun digs through his bedside table drawer for something. He looks over his shoulder briefly and goes back to digging.

 

“I’m looking for my yo-yo,” Jun states. Wonwoo keeps his eyes on the ground. “Why? Were we interrupting something? This is my room too, you know.”

 

“We weren’t… it isn’t… we just…” Soonyoung has trouble finishing sentences because he can’t look away from his ex-boyfriend, standing there as if he doesn’t belong, not even bothering to greet him or come in, at the very least.

 

Jun finds what he’s looking for; he pulls out a dark purple yo-yo and holds it up triumphantly. “Ah ha!” Wonwoo manages to glance at him, smile faint on his face, and Jun puts a hand on one hip.

 

“Soonyoung, I don’t _care_ what you guys were doing,” he jokes, rolling his eyes dramatically. Seokmin sees Soonyoung’s neck go red, as it does when he’s embarrassed. 

 

“We weren’t doing anything,” he mumbles. “You just surprised me.”

 

Seokmin can tell he’s directing the words to Wonwoo, who has now backed out of the room even further. It’s all still very sore, Seokmin thinks, which is why he’s a little confused as to why Wonwoo is with Jun, of all people. Surely he hasn’t moved on already, as is evident by the fact that his eyes have only looked at Jun and not at Soonyoung, who can’t seem to look away. Tension pulls at Seokmin’s chest; his eyes are pleading for something.

 

Jun chatters away, following Wonwoo out into the hallway. “Yeah, well, if you’re gonna bang, just put a sock on the door handle or something so we won’t barge in again. Have fun,” he finishes with a wink, shutting the door loudly, startling Seokmin but not phasing Soonyoung.

 

“That was weird,” he ventures. The latter is still sitting upright, posture board-straight, eyes unmoving from the door.

 

“Yeah,” he echoes. “Weird.”

 

“Are you okay?” Seokmin asks, reaching for Soonyoung’s hand. He lets him take it, pulling him back to sit on his butt instead of his knees. His hands are one of Seokmin’s favorite things; they’re smaller than his own, easy to hold, and always warm. Soonyoung is still frowning.

 

“Why were they together?” he questions. 

 

Seokmin shrugs. “Maybe they’re friends now.”

 

“They’ve never gotten along.”

 

From what Seokmin remembers, Wonwoo only ever associated himself with his job and with Soonyoung. Seeing him around someone who isn’t his ex-boyfriend is strange, yes, but not impossible. Jun is also a sophomore. Wonwoo might be finding solace in the fact that he feels free to make new friends and form new bonds with people now that he isn’t latched onto Soonyoung anymore.

 

“It just rubs me the wrong way,” Soonyoung huffs, tugging on Seokmin’s arm as he talks. He doesn’t let go of his hand. “Wonwoo didn’t even look at me. It’s like he’s afraid to.”

 

“He probably just needs time,” Seokmin reckons.

 

“Time? Time for what? He’s moved on by now. That has to be why he’s hanging around Jun so often.”

 

Seokmin looks at him quizzically. “Often?”

 

Soonyoung nods. “Yeah,” he says. “The other day, I came back from a class and Wonwoo was in here, sitting on Jun’s bed, and I didn’t know what to say to him so I just left the room and went to the lounge on the first floor.”

 

“You can’t keep being uncomfortable with him,” Seokmin nudges him. At this, Soonyoung heaves a sigh and brings himself to wrap his arms around Seokmin’s shoulders, drawing him in for a hug.

 

“I can and I will,” he says, voice muffled in the fabric of Seokmin’s shirt.

 

“Don’t pout.”

 

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

 

“Soonyoung, you’re a big baby, you know that?”

 

Seokmin feels him tighten his grip, and then he pulls away suddenly, coming face-to-face, eyes wide and cheeks full with his grin. It’s suspicious. Seokmin can’t help but melt, because Soonyoung’s eyes sparkle, quite literally, whenever he smiles. As cheesy as it sounds, the foreground is all he sees, the dorm room melts away and Seokmin doesn’t think he’s capable of escaping.

 

Soonyoung giggles his high-pitched giggle and takes his hands up to Seokmin’s face, cupping right under his ears along his jawline. Before he knows what he’s doing, he plants the most obnoxious kiss on his left cheek. Out of reflex, Seokmin jerks away, cringing.

 

“You’re gross,” he bubbles, not bothering to stop himself from beaming.

 

“Do you not enjoy being kissed?”

 

“I didn’t say that. I just said you were gross.”

 

“Then let me kiss you, Lee Seokmin!”

 

It’s a battle for the ages; Soonyoung tackles him to the ground and starts trying to peck at every inch of Seokmin’s face. His cheeks hurt from laughing. His lips land in odd places, from his exposed forehead to the tip of his right ear. Seokmin tries (and fails) to push him off, but he doesn’t exactly mind having his best friend be so bold. 

 

Best friend? Boyfriend? No, not officially. Love interest? Pshh, what is this, a terrible romcom? Seokmin doesn’t let his thoughts get in the way of enjoying the playfight going on with Soonyoung, who has all but given up on trying to land a kiss to the tip of his nose. He does. Seokmin doesn’t fight it.

 

“Got you,” he taunts, using his arms to level himself above Seokmin. His hands are on either side of his head, right above his shoulders as he lays on the ground.

 

“Right you are,” Seokmin says, smirking.

 

Soonyoung just stares. Seokmin resists the urge to ask him what they are, because even he isn’t sure. Some days, they end up falling asleep together on the floor, other days they debate back and forth about if french fries should be dipped in ketchup or covered in it. Seokmin wants a label, but then again, he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to rush into being someone’s boyfriend. He doesn’t want Wonwoo to spite him for the rest of his college career. He doesn’t want Soonyoung to feel obligated to date him.

 

So, Seokmin stares back, and eventually, Soonyoung moves off of him, collapsing onto the ground next to him, reaching for his hand so he can hold it in his own, no real purpose or motivation evident.

 

“You have nice hands,” Soonyoung muses.

 

“Shouldn’t you be doing your statistics homework?”

 

“Shouldn’t you be minding your own business?”

 

Seokmin chuckles. “You make it hard for me to do that,” he says. “I can’t help but make sure you’re always on track. I feel like your babysitter sometimes.”

 

Soonyoung doesn’t respond right away, but he squeezes Seokmin’s hand a little tighter. Looking out of the corner of his eye, Seokmin is surprised to see tears pooling, although Soonyoung doesn’t look particularly sad. His gaze is trained on empty space; he’s crying silently and there’s a grin on his face, because of course, how could he forget that Soonyoung is a giant contradiction?

 

“Thank you for caring about me,” Soonyoung breathes. It’s almost as if he doesn’t sound sure that he wants Seokmin to hear it, but he does, and his chest tightens to the point of bursting.

 

“Of course,” he says with a smile.

 

_ I care a little too much, _ is what Seokmin wants to say, but he leaves it at that. Eventually, he sits up and forces Soonyoung to get his work done, despite his protesting, and he wonders if it’s obvious that he coats his words with sugar whenever they’re together. Seokmin wants to know everything Soonyoung is thinking, because truthfully, he’s never known a friend like this. He’s never wanted to keep being closer with someone. He tries to attribute it to the whole college environment of throwing students into crowds of strangers and forcing them to become acquainted, but it just doesn’t feel right.

 

No, what feels right is knowing that Soonyoung belongs with him in some way, shape, or form, but what that is, Seokmin hasn’t figured out yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gyu's truth comes out


End file.
